


Mechanical Heart

by queenpenthesilea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, BAMF Tony Stark, Civil War Team Iron Man, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenpenthesilea/pseuds/queenpenthesilea
Summary: After Siberia, Tony Stark disappeared and the Mechanic started popping up on Hydra's networks. Integrating the two might prove to be a hugely important step forward for humanity and a difficult step back for Tony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so tbh this is pretty much just self-gratuitous fic to say a giant fuck u to team cap and lay flowers at the feet of team iron man, inspired by my re-watching AoU, CACW, and IW and getting progressively more irritated and wanting tony to kick everyone's ass

Pain. That was all he could feel – physically, emotionally, mentally, everything was simply pain. It had even knocked out the cold that he knew he should be feeling, locked in a metal suit in the middle of Siberia. The cold couldn’t seem to touch him as the hours passed, though he started to wish that it would. And least then there would be something _else_ other than the unbearable emptiness and _hurt_. Finally, blessedly, the world seemed to be going dark, the edges closing in as his battered body gave out at last.

And then light was hitting his face, and with his last tendrils of consciousness he distantly noted an unfamiliar face leaning over him and heard a chilling laugh. Ah, the cold had returned at last – just in time for him to be swallowed by darkness.

 

The distant sound of explosions was nothing out of the ordinary in the base, and, as such, the Mechanic paid the noises little mind. His attention was focused single-mindedly on the missile in front of him, optimizing its specs as his handler had commanded a few hours earlier. 

His attention wavered when his handler burst into the room.

“Mechanic, assume your suit,” his handler ordered, and the Mechanic immediately abandoned the missile, calling on the suit that resided inside him, courtesy of the serum Hydra had injected in him. “Order 2-alpha-epsilon-9-2. Attack non-Hydra personnel. Shoot to kill,” his handler directed, and the Mechanic nodded. 

“Ready to comply,” the Mechanic responded from behind the red-and-gold faceplate. He exited the room, armor clanking as he strode down the hall, one gauntlet extended and whining at the ready. The people in the hall were all Hydra, as far as he and his system could see. They appeared reassured by his presence, the Mechanic noted absently, his training dictating that he observe any and all stimuli that could work for or against him. They were moving in the opposite direction as him, shouting directions at one another for what to salvage from the base.

The Mechanic ignored them, marching toward progressively emptier areas, the Hydra agents having fled the approaching invaders and leaving the space behind devoid of personnel. He’d been marching down unoccupied hallways for several minutes when he heard it, a slight scuffling noise unlikely to be detected by the normal human ear but easily detected by his enhanced hearing. He spun, repulsor whirring to life, pausing only long enough to determine that the entity was indeed foe rather than Hydra before firing once, twice, three times.

His shots, surprisingly, ricocheted off a multicolored shield, and the Mechanic paused, waiting to see how the target responded to gather data on how best to engender his defeat. So he waited, and in the space, the target glanced over the top of his shield, eyes wide and incredulous.

_”Tony?”_

The word was meaningless to the Mechanic, though he registered it as a name, possibly one the target believed belonged to the Mechanic for some reason. He filed that information away; it could prove useful in his mission to kill the target. 

The Mechanic raised a gauntleted hand again, shooting once at the target and then, when the target had raised his shield to block the attack, fired a second shot at the light hanging above his head. The light sparked, shattering and dropping onto the target’s head, though he managed to deflect the deadlier shards at the last moment.

The Mechanic was not finished, though. He propelled himself forward, taking advantage of the target’s compromised position shielding himself from the glass to barrel into the target’s chest, throwing him into the wall. The target let out a grunt of pain and slid to the floor, though he did not appear nearly as damaged as the Mechanic had calculated a normal human experiencing that blow should. An enhanced being, then. That would make the Mechanic’s job more difficult. 

And worse, the Mechanic could hear additional noise that signified three to four other entities approaching, too close now to head off and engage individually. They arrived behind the Mechanic’s original target, simultaneously drawing up short with identical expressions of shock on each face. The Mechanic cataloged the new arrivals: a female in a black battle suit that his system identified as one of the Russian Black Widows, a male in a black combat suit with a bow and arrow strapped to his back, and a male with a metal arm that his system logged as a rogue Asset codenamed Winter Soldier. 

They were staring at him as though they recognized him, and his training was screaming at him that now, _now_ was the time to strike, while their guards were down, while they were at their most vulnerable and their responses would be slowest – but there was something in him pushing back against that very insistence, a strange resistance that the Mechanic hadn’t felt in a _very_ long time. It was a resistance he recalled from the earliest days he could pull to his mind, though he truly remembered very little from even those times; they’d put him in the chair far too often for it to be much more than a pained, horrifying, electrified haze.

All he really recalled were vague, out-of-body memories of the blustering, the defiance, the insistence that _they would not break him, he was made of iron, dammit_ , a sentiment that became progressively weaker as more and more memories were erased and written over, as days, weeks, months, passed by. He hadn’t been permitted out of the chair for more than a few hours at a time for the longest time, as he constantly, consistently, and insistently found some new way around the re-wiring they had been attempting to implement in his head. They were so angry every time they realized he’d circumvented them yet again, and their determination to break him and erase his resistance grew ever-more desperate and cruel. 

He had lasted a very long time, but even he could not hold out against them forever. He was only human, and he had been a broken human before they’d ever gotten their hands on them, at that. 

That remembrance was dulled now, though, tempered by reboot after reboot of his brain until he was certain he had _always_ been the Mechanic, and the strange resistance that popped up every now and again was simply an odd virus that had infiltrated his otherwise immaculate system. But he was the Mechanic – and he was very good at getting rid of viruses.

But now, though – now, he was experiencing something he hadn’t felt in longer than he was capable of remembering – and as such, he couldn’t remember how he was supposed to handle such sensations. It was as though a tug-of-war was occurring in his head, and he wasn’t certain which side was going to win – or even what each side was fighting for. 

“Tony, are you in there? Or is it someone else piloting the suit?” his original target demanded, pushing himself to his feet. When the Mechanic didn’t answer, the target growled in frustration. “Who are you?”

“Asset designation: the Mechanic,” the Mechanic responded automatically, and the target recoiled. The other three emitted sounds of shock or dismay, and the Mechanic’s fingers twitched. He should be taking advantage of this, he should be attacking, he should be _taking them out like he had been ordered_ , and he didn’t know why he _wasn’t_ except that something in him seemed resistant to the idea.

“Are you… did Hydra brainwash you?” the target asked, eyes wide.

“Stevie, if it’s him, he’s not going to be able to answer that,” the male with the metal arm said softly, stepping forward, and the Mechanic reacted, repulsor coming up and whining in warning. The rogue Asset held up his hands as though in surrender, eyeing him with some degree of calculation and appearing to debate how best to proceed. 

“Mechanic, I’m assuming you’ve identified me?” the Asset asked finally.

“You are a rogue former Hydra Asset, designation: Winter Soldier,” the Mechanic recited, and the Asset nodded.

“And what are your orders?” the Winter Soldier asked, and the Mechanic paused, different sides of himself warring with one another. The Winter Solder was still considered Hydra personnel who ranked above the Mechanic, even if he was _rogue_ Hydra personnel, and, as such, the Mechanic’s training dictated that he should answer any question the Winter Soldier asked. But the former Asset was also clearly allied with the intruders, which dictated that the Mechanic should ignore any and all demands directed his way and simply follow the order of his handler. Although, the Mechanic’s orders had been in regard to killing, not question asking or answering… The Mechanic seized on this loophole solution that satisfied both parts of his programming, allowing him to feel more settled.

“Order 2-alpha-epsilon-9-2. Attack non-Hydra personnel. Shoot to kill,” the Mechanic stated after a pause. The rogue Asset nodded, appearing thoughtful.

“I figured as much.” The other two standing with the Winter Soldier shifted, both of them looking at the Mechanic with a mixture of pained hope and distrust. The Mechanic pushed back the urge to attack again, the strange resistant part of himself again managing to temporarily overpower his programming.

“What do we do, Buck? Is that Tony in there?” the original target – Stevie, as the Winter Soldier had identified him – asked, sounding a little desperate. The Winter Soldier frowned.

“I dunno for sure, Stevie. It definitely could be him, but Hydra coulda made him make a suit for someone else, too,” the former Asset replied, eyeing the Mechanic. “Mechanic, are you permitted to remove your helmet?”

The Mechanic thought for a moment, reviewing his protocols. His handler and trainers had never stated explicitly that he was not to remove his helmet during battle – likely assuming that self-preservation alone would prevent such a move. “Confirmed, Asset can remove helmet at will,” he responded eventually.

“Please remove your helmet,” the Winter Soldier requested with the exact edge of authority that made the Mechanic immediately want to obey. 

But before he could do so, his handler’s frantic-sounding voice sounded over the base’s intercom, echoing around them. “Mechanic, former Asset designation: Winter Soldier is no longer included as Hydra personnel. Mission protocol: engage hostiles. _Immediately._.”

“Ready to comply,” the Mechanic responded, and attacked without hesitation, his handler’s direct orders quickly and efficiently gagging the resistant part of him and sending it hurtling to the backseat.

Although he wondered later if that resistant part of him held more sway than he acknowledged – because the idea that four humans, even if two were as enhanced as he, could take _him_ down if he’d been truly trying to kill them was downright laughable. His suit could kill people without a second thought; it was a weapon of death, if it chose to be – and all the Mechanic could infer from the fact that not one of the four ended up dead was that he had very much decided it _didn’t_ choose to be.

Later, he would thank whatever gods he could still believe in that his handler had ordered him to _engage_ hostiles instead of kill them, this time, overriding previous orders with unintentionally less lethal ones – and much less concrete ones. Because “engage” didn’t mean “succeed against” – it didn’t even mean “escape from.” It simply meant “fight” with no stipulations about the degree of skill that fight entailed.

So the Mechanic fought. Not to the best of his ability – barely even halfway, if he was being honest. But he fought, satisfying the orders, and feeling the strangest sensation of relief when he was overcome, the four invaders teaming up to eventually overtake him.

He sank into a realm of darkness, one part of him howling to _get up and fight, defend Hydra from its enemies_ , the other part superior and smug at having successfully circumvented any permanent damage the Mechanic could inflict on the intruders, welcoming the coming darkness with a mixture of relish and tentative hope. 

As he faded from consciousness, he felt the suit retract and dissolve back under his skin, and he heard shocked intakes of air.

“ _It’s him_.”

 

 

 

It was two weeks. Two weeks before he was able to open his eyes again, his system automatically registering the time that had passed, though he’d had no indication of its dissolution or any idea of how he’d spent those weeks. 

“How much of the mind-washing still remains?”

“Will he be Tony again?”

“We can’t say for certain, Ms. Potts – “

“What do you mean you can’t say for certain?”

“Does he at least know his name?”

“Will he remember what happened with Hydra?”

“This is an imprecise science, I won’t know the answers to your questions until he wakes up.”

“Good thing I’m awake, then,” Tony groaned out, stretching more fully into the scratchy sheets of the bed he was curled up on and blinking open gritty eyes. A muted light came into focus over him, followed by the slightly blurry faces of three figures that he registered quickly as Virginia Potts, Colonel James Rhodes, and Dr. Helen Cho, their names, ages, ranks, and various skill sets displaying in front of his eyes. 

“ _Tony_ ,” Potts cried as though the word was wrenched from her chest, immediately leaning in to encase him in what Tony registered was supposed to be a hug, though Tony remained stiff to the movement, uncertain how exactly to respond. Memories were starting to assemble themselves, but not enough that he felt more than a passing degree of familiarity with the people in the room.

“Welcome back, Tones,” Colonel Rhodes said, clearly trying to keep his voice light, but a strange degree of tremulous emotion colored his words. 

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?” Dr. Cho asked professionally, and the Mechanic forced himself to focus on a question he could interpret in a light he was slightly more used to, searching the blue screens running numbers at the corner of his vision.

“Asset is functioning at 100% capacity. Rest and nutrition levels are adequate for optimal function. Prepared for next mission,” he reported, eyes unfocused as the data displayed in front of him, missing the distressed expressions. 

“…Can you state your name?” Dr. Cho asked.

“Asset designation: the Mechanic,” he stated, then frowned, his earlier self-designation as user ‘Tony’ pushing its way to the surface and demanding to be acknowledged, savagely attempting to circumvent the hold the Mechanic – no _he_ had on his own mind. He was the Mechanic. Wasn’t he?

There was a pause, then Dr. Cho asked carefully, “Do you have any further names?”

And that was perhaps question most primed to destroy him, even if the three hovering over his bedside didn’t acknowledge it as such. The side of himself that demanded that he call himself Tony howled to be acknowledged aloud, though the Mechanic tried to re-assert his control. The part that was Tony had already been given enough acknowledgment, in the Mechanic’s opinion, and to give it any further control was to lose himself – though the other part of himself undoubtedly felt the same way, if his anguish was anything to judge by, and he felt himself fracturing –

“ – need to remain calm, mimic my breaths, okay? Listen to me breathe in…and out…in….and out…” Dr. Cho’s calming voice sounded, purposefully audibly taking in and pushing out air, and he forced himself to mimic the movements, the action strangely familiar and soothing, as though he’d had to do it before. His mind settled, seizing on the recognition, vision swimming back into focus as one side of himself was able to gain the upper hand thanks to its familiarity with the situation. 

“Are you feeling better?” Dr. Cho asked steadily. “Can you tell me who you are? Any answer is okay.” He sucked in a few more deep breaths, grounding himself and keeping his eyes on the doctor. Memories were starting to flood back in earnest, now, both of his life pre-Hydra and his… _stay_ with them. 

“Tony…I’m Tony,” he said finally, and he heard Pepper choke on a sob, and Colonel Rhodes – Rhodey, he remembered –let out a cough that he suspected was meant to mask an emotion.

“Okay, Tony,” Dr. Cho said evenly. “Can you tell me what year it is?” Tony had to think for a moment. He could, of course, check his system’s logs for the date, but he knew that wasn’t what Dr. Cho was trying to determine; she was assessing the extent of the damage to his memories. So he combed through his memories, trying to suss out how much time had passed. He could approximate the amount of time between his wakings and the amount of time he was awake each time, but he’d never been told exactly _when_ he’d first been woken up – if they’d activated him immediately or if he’d been under for a while after they found him. 

“…I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I was not made privy to my year of activation. It wasn’t important to the missions, as long as I had sufficient knowledge to complete the objectives.” The memories were continuing to filter back, though, now that the Mechanic was beginning to recede from control and ‘Tony’ was able to take back the reins to some degree. 

“That’s okay, Tony,” Dr. Cho hastened to comfort him, though Pepper and Rhodey looked a little sick at his admission. “What’s the last thing you remember before you encountered Hydra? Again, it’s okay if you don’t know. Don’t push too hard if you don’t remember.”

Tony paused, searching fractured memories, soothed by the prospect that failure to give the correct response wouldn’t result in punishment. “Cold – pain. Siberia?” he answered finally, the final word turning into a question as he prodded the broken pieces of his mind. He probed a little harder. “Siberia,” he said more confidently, though the memories were still disjointed. “I was in Siberia with – Captain America and the Asset?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “That’s the last information we have on you before you went missing, Tony,” she affirmed, and he absently noted her repetition of his name. Likely a move to keep the Mechanic at bay and Tony with them. Smart. “Do you remember what happened there?”

Tony concentrated, the memories swirling to the surface slowly but surely. “I went there as a friend,” he said slowly. “I’d talked to – to the Falcon, and I wanted to help. An enemy – Zemo – he was there when I got there, along with the Winter Soldier and Captain America.” The memories started rolling in more fluidly and he continued. “We’d been told other Winter Soldiers would be there, too, but they were all dead when we arrived. At that point, we – Steve – Captain America – we figured out it was a trap, but Zemo started rolling a video.”

A shudder rolled through Tony, and Dr. Cho noticed.

“You can stop if you need to, Tony,” she said reassuringly as Pepper and Rhodey looked at him with concern, but he shook his head, the words pouring out like a flood released from poorly-reinforced gates.

“I think – I think I need to finish?” he said uncertainly, uncertain as to why but feeling as though pushing the memories back would result in more difficulty accessing them in the future. Dr. Cho nodded.

“It’s whatever _you_ want, Tony – you’re in control. You tell us as much as you wish and nothing more.” The words filled Tony with a strange comfort. Had he ever been in that kind of control? He couldn’t remember, if he had. The feeling left him off-kilter, and he wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed. Dr. Cho, bless her, seemed to notice his uncertainty.

“Okay, Tony. What did the video show you, then?” she prompted. Tony steeled himself, letting the images roll in front of him.

“It was my parents,” he said, his voice becoming more hushed. Dr. Cho frowned.

“Zemo pulled up a video of your parents?”

“Of them getting murdered,” Tony clarified – and Rhodey and Pepper jerked back, shocked, Dr. Cho looking similarly surprised.

“Murdered, Tony?” she prompted, and Tony nodded. Dr. Cho looked at Tony, seeming to size him up. “Did they not die in a car accident?” she asked carefully, her words neutral, though Tony couldn’t help but hear the uncertainty beneath them. He tried to convince himself that he couldn’t blame them, though; he’d just woken up from brainwashing, after all, so it was reasonable to doubt his recollections; and he shouldn’t be surprised that Rogers had attempted to cover everything in a blanket of more-palatable half-truths instead of informing them of this particular part of Siberia. A part of him registered that it was a _very_ good sign that his memories were returning enough to recall the Captain’s personality.

“I thought so,” he said finally. “For a really long time. Howard drank so much, I never questioned it when they told me his drinking made him wrap the car around a tree. But the video…” He took in a deep breath. “It showed him and my mother being killed by the Winter Soldier.”

And the story had started to flow out of Tony, so he had to ignore the injured cry that left Pepper’s mouth, the startled noise that left Rhodey’s, in order to continue. “The Winter Soldier had been assigned to kill Howard but make it look like an accident, so when my mother and Howard were coming back from a party after they’d gotten into an argument and Howard had been drinking, Hydra decided it was their best chance to take them out with the least amount of suspicion possible.”

“And Zemo?” Dr. Cho prompted when it became apparent Tony had lost his ability to continue the story.

“Zemo showed us the video of the Winter Soldier beating my father and strangling my mother to death,” Tony said emotionlessly, the feeling detached, which was the only way Tony could keep them from being overwhelmed by the awful feelings the memories were calling up. 

“Tony…” Pepper breathed, and Rhodey looked simultaneously sickened. Dr. Cho looked momentarily uncertain as well before she regained control of herself.

“So Zemo showed you this while you were in the presence of the Winter Soldier,” she said, her voice determinedly clinical. “Did he reveal anything else?”

Tony paused. “ _He_ didn’t,” he responded, and Dr. Cho raised an eyebrow at him.

“So who did?” she asked, and Tony sighed.

“Captain Rogers,” he said heavily, and she frowned.

“And what did Captain America say?” she asked, voice carefully leading without being demanding. 

Tony hesitated, the last strings of loyalty tying him to the Captain’s secrets dissolving, leaving Tony feel strangely empty. “I asked him if he’d known about the Winter Soldier killing my parents and he said he had,” he responded, feeling hollow as he said the words. Astonished silence met his admission.

“That. Goddamn. Self-righteous. Asshole,” Rhodey bit out word-by-word, eyes flashing with a fury Tony was startled to observe on his behalf. Pepper looked similarly murderous, and Tony almost felt a flash of sympathy for the shit-storm he was certain would be headed Rogers’s way. And Rhodey wasn’t even finished. “He accused you of not being truthful and then pulled this shit? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Colonel Rhodes, your outrage on Mr. Stark’s behalf is understandable but perhaps not helpful in the exact moment,” Dr. Cho said reproachfully. “This is about helping Tony heal, not making sensitive wounds deeper.” When Rhodey looked properly abashed, Dr. Cho returned her attention to Tony. “And what happened next, Tony?”

“I…I lost my temper,” Tony confessed, hearing the shame in his voice.

“That’s understandable,” Dr. Cho said gently. “You’d just found out the truth about your parents’ deaths, and you were standing in the same room as the person who killed them.” An injured noise from Pepper’s direction indicated she hadn’t quite put that piece together yet. 

“Still…it wasn’t Barnes’s fault. He didn’t choose to kill them,” he said stubbornly, refusing to let himself be absolved of guilt. “Anyway. I was upset, and I attacked. They fought back, and Steve – the Captain – he disabled my suit.” And he couldn’t hold back a flinch at the memory of the shield coming down on his chest. He’d gone through a lot of pain since then, but somehow that still hurt the worst. He continued, “And then they left. The suit was dead weight and I couldn’t get out, so was lying there for a while, and then someone came in right as I passed out. After that…well, I think you know the rest.”

The room was quiet for a moment after he finished.

“They _left_ you there?” Rhodey asked, his voice quiet – and oh, that was a little frightening. An angry Rhodes was never quiet unless he was truly, deeply furious. “They left you in a Hydra base in a broken suit with no way of leaving. From which you were kidnapped by Hydra. I’m going to destroy them.” And the words were said so calmly and blandly that Tony had to repress a shiver. 

“I’ll be your back-up,” Pepper said just as calmly, and fuck, how had he gotten so lucky as to have these two amazing people in his life? However, gratefulness aside, he’d really like to _keep_ them in his life, and getting put away on murder charges would likely circumvent that particular goal, so he supposed now was the time to defuse the situation.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m okay,” he tried to reassure them, then paused, looking at Dr. Cho. “How exactly am I okay?” he asked curiously. “I can’t imagine two weeks is enough time to deprogram me.”

Dr. Cho cocked an eyebrow at him. “How did you know it had been two weeks?”

Tony shrugged. “They gave me some sort of drug or serum or something at the beginning. Not quite the super soldier serum, although it does help me heal a lot faster and age a lot slower. But it also turned my head into a computer of sorts, as far as I can tell. So my system automatically logs dates and time elapsed since last awakening and such,” he explained, and Dr. Cho looked startled.

“That’s certainly…interesting. Any other developments from that?” she asked, looking overwhelmingly fascinated. Tony smiled a little.

“Loads, I’ll tell you all about them,” he promised. “But my health? Am I okay? How am I okay?”

Dr. Cho appeared to shake herself. “Right, of course. We developed an effective way to temporarily neutralize Hydra’s particular brand of mind-control from…Barnes,” she hesitated ever-so-slightly at the man’s name, clearly worried about Tony’s reaction to it, but Tony simply gestured for her to continue. “As soon as you were brought to us, we used that to remove you from their immediate influence, and then – though you probably don’t remember this, since we had to use a significant amount of sedation to prevent you from re-injuring yourself during the particularly bad memories – we used your B.A.R.F. technology to remove effectuality of the trigger words.”

Tony blinked at her. “Really? Just like that?” he asked dubiously, and she nodded, smiling at him and exhibiting no tells that signified deception. “…I’m free?”

“You’re free, Tony,” she confirmed emphatically, and Tony let out a huff of air he didn’t realize he’d been holding in, then frowned.

“Wait, if Hydra’s control is gone, why do I still have the Mechanic in my head?” he asked, and Dr. Cho looked vaguely frustrated.

“We’re not sure why that keeps happening,” she admitted.

“ _Keeps_ happening?” Tony asked, and she nodded.

“Barnes said the same thing of the Winter Soldier. Right now, we’re running with the theory that the serum combined with systematic erasure of who you were before results in a secondary manifestation that’s tied to the serum and therefore can’t be removed.”

“Makes about as much sense as anything else in my life,” Tony murmured, mostly to himself, but he was startled and gratified when Rhodey let out a surprised laugh. He gave the man a questioning look.

“It’s good to have you back, Tones,” he said with a grin. “I missed that sarcasm.” Tony gave him a genuine smile.

“Missed you too, Platypus,” he said, too much feeling coloring his tone. He hesitated, the question that had been teasing the back of his mind finally pushing its way to the front. “So how long was I…gone?” Tony asked delicately, attempting to phrase the question in a manner his current audience would find palatable. 

Pepper and Rhodey blanched, and Dr. Cho’s mouth curved down in a manner that suggested he was about to receive bad news. “Hydra had you for four years, Dr. Stark,” she said softly, and Tony blinked. That was…he wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about that. Certainly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the 70 years the Winter Soldier had suffered at Hydra’s hands, but it was still a decent amount of time. It was clear the trio were expecting him to react fairly negatively, so Tony searched for a response that would be acceptably flippant.

“Ouch, so I’m, what, in my fifties now? And I didn’t even get a proper party to commemorate the event?” he complained offhandedly, expecting his petulant question to break the tension. But it seemed to only serve to make the trio tense further, and Tony faltered, uncertain as to how to interpret their responses.

“There’s one other thing, Tony,” Dr. Cho said, her voice uncharacteristically reticent. Her eyes met his searchingly, though Tony wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “It appears that whatever Hydra injected you with gave you not only the abilities you’ve mentioned plus the enhanced strength, agility, and healing – it also…well, it also made you a bit younger.”

Tony stared at her. “Younger?” he repeated dubiously, eyes searching. “What exactly does that mean?”

Dr. Cho bit her lip. “From what our scanners have been able to determine, it looks like your body is appearing and behaving as though it’s in its early to mid-twenties, on top of being enhanced in its healing and strength,” she said finally, and shock raced through Tony. Immediately, he turned inward, letting his own scanners evaluate his system, look through his body’s level of bone remodeling, cell turnover, oxidative damage to organs. His system bounced through all the information, dragging each piece out from every nook and cranny until Tony was satisfied that he’d compiled enough information to calculate an age.

His eyes flicked to the right, seizing on a number that flashed in his periphery. “22,” he said with some degree of relief. At least he was out of his teens and was able to legally drink alcohol, thank _god_.

“What’s that, Tony?” Dr. Cho asked, and Tony shook his head a little, trying to dislodge the rest of the numbers that scrolled in front of his eyes.

“I’m – or, my body, that is – is 22,” Tony said finally. 

There was a pause. “Okay. Do you have any other information?” Dr. Cho asked finally, and Tony looked at her strangely.

“Such as?” he asked, and Dr. Cho shrugged sheepishly.

“Honestly? No idea. We’re in uncharted waters here, I’m not even sure what questions to ask to properly assess your health,” she admitted. “So I guess I’m just asking – is there anything else you feel like I need to know to properly give you care?

Tony laughed, the slightest tinge of hysteria coloring the noise, and she as well as the others looked startled. “I think my body can handle its own care now,” he said by way of explanation, though the sentiment in no way encompassed the vastly overwhelmed feeling that he was entirely certain _no one_ could help him with that he was experiencing. Dr. Cho frowned at him.

“That may be so, but we’d like to help in any way that we can,” she said softly, and Tony saw the sentiments on the other two’s faces. Tony stuffed down his laughter, trying to brush away the hysteria, the terror, the hopelessness, the fear that had encompassed his life but that especially characterized _his_ mental state over the past four years. With all of that removed, pushed aside, he was left just entirely exhausted.

“I just want to go home.” 

 

 

They took him back to his tower, and he spent the next week isolating himself in his lab. FRIDAY had greeted him like she’d have cried with relief at his return, had she had a physical body. It had been one of the absolute _thrills_ of his new life to realize that his new abilities meant he could interface with her and DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers; their conversations now taking place inaudibly as his serum-enhanced mind uploaded itself onto the Internet and various servers in the house, interacting with them in a technological realm where he could actually sense their _personhood_ , just as they could sense him in a way that had never been possible before. 

He and his children had melded in his labs, sharing minds so seamlessly that it felt like this had always been the eventual outcome of his creating them – but especially with FRIDAY, whose intelligence was unparalleled after JARVIS had been…repurposed. Now, she was a permanent fixture in his head, her presence brushing against his mind nearly constantly without invading it, easily pushed away if he so desired – but he definitely did _not_ desire. He’d gone far too long without his FRIDAY. With the connection that they both established, she saw everything from his eyes, and he experienced the entirety of her thoughts and calculations, all in the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t just FRIDAY and his bots that he could interface with, though. Over the course of the week, he experimented with his new abilities, trying to discern his capabilities, his limits. He learned that, when he encountered a new person or new item, stats on that person or item that were likely pulled from various databases around the world would immediately pop up, but that those stats could easily be ignored as a new type of background noise if he simply didn’t give them his entire attention – a useful discovery for any time he was in a crowd, he thought. He learned that his strength and speed were enough to rival the Captain and Winter Soldier’s, if FRIDAY’s numbers and his own current gym experiences were anything to judge by. He learned that, _lord_ , creating was so much easier with the new speed and vast, unending realm of knowledge his brain now had at its fingertips, quickly solving any problem in his creations with an ease and deftness that had been impossible before. 

His new relation to technology was _incredible_ and, for all that the was a man of science instead of magic, he couldn’t help but feel absolutely in pleased awe of the abilities he now possessed. 

But of course, he hadn’t simply made himself aware of his own burgeoning abilities over the week; he’d tried to educate himself on the state of the world over the past four years. His first foray into the news world had been an unmitigated disaster. FRIDAY had made his original firewalls and helped him code new ones, but he’d wanted to be conservative with his firewalls so that he wasn’t blocking out _too much_ information. It was a mistake that he’d had to rectify quickly, the veritable floodgate of information and stories and news and reaction posts piling in and pushing at his simple query in a manner that was absolutely not sustainable for his still-mostly-human mind to accept and process.

So he’d refined his firewalls such that his search for information would allow him to peruse more selectively and looked again. He was overall pleased with what he discovered; in the four years since he’d been gone, it appeared that the Accords had been implemented, adjusted, and amended, just as he’d expected. Ross, sleazebag that he was, had been removed and imprisoned – thanks, in part, to the dirt that Tony had been gathering on him and left on his personal servers for Rhodey to find before he’d disappeared. A New Avengers had been formed in the interim after the old ones had defected, headed by a woman named Captain Marvel and his Rhodey, who had apparently managed to avail himself to prosthetic technology that Tony himself had developed in a fit of boredom once upon a time (and was _so_ grateful that he had since he hadn’t had the chance to do anything after Rhodey had been injured before he’d gone missing). The other members included the Vision and Spider-Man, unsurprisingly, as well as a group known as the Fantastic Four, which apparently included a set of superheroes whose names were Reed Richards, Susan Storm, Ben Grimm, and Johnny Storm, as well as a group known as the Defenders, with Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Matt Murdoch, and Danny Rand. A few independent superheroes had joined as well, including Jan van Dyne and Dr. Stephen Strange, and others were on call as ‘backup’ Avengers.

Noticeably unmentioned were the former Avengers – or, the Rogues, as Tony had learned they were now referred to. A quick search to try to understand why they hadn’t returned had revealed information that he frankly found entirely shocking: the public had chosen _him_.

‘Team Iron Man’ flashed from more web servers than he felt like counting, even with his enhanced skills, easily and _completely_ overwhelmingly outnumbering any ‘Team Cap’ sentiments. It appeared the public had supported his desire to be held accountable to them, had understood his acknowledgment that oversight was necessary since he and the others were, for all purposes, a specialized military unit. And when the news that he had gone to the Captain and subsequently completely disappeared broke, the public had been absolutely _incensed_. 

It had apparently been enough of a publicity shit-storm that the Captain had eventually decided to break his isolation to try to give an explanation of where Tony might be and why – which had absolutely _not_ gone well for him. Tony was a little surprised he’d been able to set up a press conference without being arrested, but he supposed that attempting to arrest a team of superheroes in the middle of a highly-tech-savvy realm full of intimidating warrior goddesses and the king cat had probably seemed like a bad idea to even the most dedicated anti-Cap government. So the Captain got his press conference. He clearly hadn’t wanted to expose his bestie’s crimes and had instead resorted to seemingly blaming Tony for his own disappearance. The reporters, blessedly, had seemed to not be buying it – which was probably the only reason FRIDAY was willing to compile the footage for him to see without forcing him to go find it himself.

The footage had essentially consisted of an increasingly-red-faced Captain America becoming progressively upset as reporters tried to get him to explain what had happened leading up to Tony’s disappearance and where Tony might be now in increasingly accusatory tones. The Captain had imperiously declared that Tony had ‘been made privy to information and overreacted’ in Siberia, resulting in ‘an unfortunate need to ensure the safety of his companion, Sergeant Barnes, after Mr. Stark had decided that this information required that he attack an innocent man.’ The reporters had (bless them) smelled the bullshit and had pressed for what _exactly_ had happened to Tony, and Rogers had admitted that he’d disabled Tony’s suit so he and Barnes could escape, but he was uncertain as to what happened to Tony after that, though he was ‘certain based on his previous discussions with Mr. Stark regarding the Iron Man armor that there was a contingency plans that would call for backup if his suit were to be irreparably impaired.’

But the reporters had been out for been out for blood, and the nail in the coffin had been when reporters asked, if Mr. Stark was certainly so safe and certain to be rescued, then where was he now? Why hadn’t he been reported as found? Why hadn’t he been in front of the press in weeks, months?

If Rogers had earnestly expressed concern for his former teammate, maybe everything could’ve been salvaged; maybe the Rogues could’ve easily been pardoned and returned to join the New Avengers, maybe they’d have been able to integrate with the New Avengers and seamlessly form a team, maybe the public would’ve forgiven them for ignoring their outcries for so long. But that was not what Rogers did.

Instead, Rogers scoffed, rolling his eyes – and Tony knew while watching the footage that that moment of derision moment was the moment that determined that Rogers would never be a public hero again. Tony listened as Rogers declared arrogantly, “I’m sure Tony is just trying to figure out how best to work this to his advantage instead of actually taking responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings.”

And yeah, that had stung a goddamn sight more than Tony was willing to admit – Rogers had been his childhood hero, sue him if his words were still able to impact Tony. But a few more days of reflection and observance of other facts pertaining to his former relation to the team convinced him that it was perhaps not the golden standard of “team as family” that he had envisioned – because of fucking course he was beginning to acknowledge that his relationship with the Avengers previously had been _absolutely fucked up_. For the love of God, he’d ended up enslaved to Hydra because of it with no signs of concern or repentance from any of them, so there was no way he could feel otherwise and still be a sane person; but it was one thing to acknowledge that the people he counted as friends were never really his friends to begin with, and another to realize that those people – the exact people he’d desperately tried to help and accommodate and provide for – thought next to nothing of him and gave no real shits about his existence. Sure, they’d save him if he was in the vicinity, but if he happened to be collateral damage then eh, whatever, no skin off their backs.

Tony honestly wasn’t sure how his pre-serum self could’ve missed this; all he could surmise was that his own desperation to _prove himself, to show that he was worthy of someone’s time, attention, affection_ had played into Fury’s hands and had ultimately absolved the team of feeling anything more for him than tolerance, while also blinding him to their indifference for him. As an outsider now, looking in, he could genuinely process that it was sickening, the lengths he’d gone to in his attempt to secure their approval and affection. He hated himself a little at the recollection, and he resolved to _never_ put himself in the position of requiring the love of someone who believed themselves above providing it again. 

He had Rhodey, he had Pepper, and he had Happy – they loved him, _actually_ loved him so much more than he deserved, and he had been a fool to prize any other’s approval over theirs. 

And luckily, the public had seemed to agree with him. Oh sure, there had been some who held some sliver of belief for Captain America’s words regarding Tony, vilifying Tony for refusing to come public after the fight in Siberia, accusing him of trying to drag the Captain’s name through the mud through sheer uncertainty as to his fate. But after Pepper had held a press conference two weeks after his disappearance, having clearly exhausted all resources to find him and bring him back, tearfully requesting that Tony please, _please_ return home, that anyone who might have him please give him back, that SI would break its ransom policy _just this once, just please give their Tony back, we’ll pay whatever you ask_ , even those few holdouts understood his disappearance was no ruse and had been horrified, turning on the Captain and his team with a vengeance. 

After all, the Captain had been the last person to encounter Tony alive, and he had already admitted that he’d left him for dead despite his self-righteous, self-proclaimed policy of ‘no man left behind’. The public may not have known all the details, but they knew that much, and Tony’s subsequent extended disappearance was apparently enough for them to either seriously doubt or turn against the Captain’s team entirely. Tony had been a media darling since he was born, and even if they’d had a love-hate relationship with him for decades, they _knew_ him, whether they actually _liked_ him or not – and, by this point, they knew all he wanted to do was fix his past and make the world better. So for _Captain America_ to circumvent that and cause him to go missing? They were _angry_. And after that, the Captain and his team had all but disappeared off the map. Oh, Tony had easily and immediately tracked them down to Wakanda – but for all intents and purposes, the old Avengers had dissolved, and the only signs it had ever existed at all were the raids Rogers and crew went on periodically against Hydra bases. Which, Tony supposed, explained how they’d been the ones to come across them. 

He was conflicted as to whether or not to thank them for that. They’d essentially saved him, after all – but he would not have fucking needed saving if it hadn’t been for them.

Regardless, it had been the nail in the coffin for the former Avengers, and the public had loudly and thoroughly proclaimed their support for Iron Man after that. And that left Tony touched beyond belief. 

It was almost overwhelming, how Iron Man adulation had cropped up in his absence. They adored him, so much more than he felt like they’d ever loved him while he was confirmed to be alive, and he wondered if his absence had somehow revealed how much he tried to do when he was present. And to see their _joy_ when Pepper announced that Tony had been found, that he was alive – well, even if Tony hadn’t been watching her from his lab, he’d have known something had happened with the way the internet _surged_ in his mind. She hadn’t told them everything, just that he was recovering and would have something big to share with him when he was ready to return. And now he was; he was ready to reassume his roles as Iron Man, as Tony Stark, as the successful billionaire who helped fund the New Avengers, and after far too long on “bedrest” (okay yes, it was only two weeks and he had really only rested in his bed _very_ infrequently, but it was two weeks longer than he wanted to spend), it was really time to get back to work. 

Pepper had been mildly disapproving but willing to help when Tony had told him he was ready to call that press conference.

“You sure you’re not moving too fast, Tony?” she pressed, and Tony gave her a winning smile through his Starkphone screen. 

“When have I ever moved too fast, Pepper dear?” he asked cheekily, and she rolled her eyes at him fondly.

“Every single moment of every single day,” she responded, and Tony clutched his chest, gasping in fake pain.

“You wound me, darling, light-of-my-life. What have I ever done to deserve such treatment?” he lamented.

She rolled her eyes again at his theatrics but smiled softly. “You deserve to have people looking out for you. You don’t do it yourself enough,” she said, her voice catching a little. She coughed, reassuming her veneer of professionalism. “I’ll get that set up for you for tomorrow morning. Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Ms. Potts,” he responded, smiling, warm and happy.

 

 

His last day of freedom before the shit-storm that was sure to be the press conference involved a heavy amount of alcohol, a lot of pizza (thank god for his rejuvenated metabolism), and a lot of goofing around with Rhodey.

“You realize there are already a shit ton of memes about you, right?” Rhodey asked, grinning at his phone as Tony threw popcorn and shouted at the dumbass on the cooking show they were watching. Tony stuck his tongue out, though Rhodey was too engrossed to see it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m far too dignified for anyone to be able to make a meme about me,” Tony sniffed, and Rhodey finally looked up from his phone to shoot him an unimpressed look.

“You, dignified? Tones, come on, even after being brainwashed and being made into a gullible baby 22-year old, you can’t seriously believe that?” Rhodey teased, then his facial expression froze, clearly uncertain if he’d gone too far, reminded Tony of too many pains.

But Tony threw his head back and laughed delightedly, then his eyes met Rhodey’s, sparking mischievously. “Hey, even as a 22-year-old former brainwashee, I’m still smarter than your dumb ass,” he declared, and Rhodey appeared at once appeased and wary. Tony couldn’t help but feel a little resentful of the kid-gloves Rhodey seemed to be trying to handle him with, but he had to admit Rhodey wasn’t _wrong_ in tiptoeing around the subject.

Tony would be the first to admit that he had absolutely _not_ dealt with the shit that he went through with Hydra. The memories were still there…every death, whether directly by his hand or indirectly through something they had him build or hack, was pressing in on his mind on a daily basis. So far, he’d been dealing with it by staunchly ignoring it – and honestly? Unhealthy as he knew it was, he wasn’t certain he’d ever change that. He wasn’t sure he _could_ face those memories and still make it out alive.

It made him feel even shittier about having attacked Barnes in Siberia – although he could very, very easily say that if the family members of any of the people he’d harmed while with Hydra came after him, he and his guilt-ridden superbrain would absolutely understand.

But regardless, he drew himself back into the conversation, noting Rhodey’s concerned gaze.

“Pep’s hasn’t told them about your regressed age, they’re gonna ask you a lot of questions about that,” Rhodey cautioned, and Tony nodded, rubbing his forehead automatically as though he was going to get a headache, though those had blessedly vanished with his new, younger, rapidly-healing body.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, already feeling tired. “It’s gonna be difficult to explain since I don’t completely understand it myself and probably suck up a lot of time unnecessarily.”

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey finally said quietly, and Tony turned his confused gaze on him. Rhodey met his eyes steadily. “You’ve already given them too much, Tones. You worked yourself to the point of death – hell, you _let_ yourself almost be killed by a person you considered a friend and teammate, then got brainwashed into this Hydra business purely because that _friend_ didn’t make sure you were safe. You’ve given up so much more of yourself to the world than any one person should _ever_ have to give. So if you want to be an Avenger again, I’ll support you, _always_ , Tony. But if you want to leave the Avengers, even temporarily, and spend some time on your _self_ and your _happiness_ \- Tony, no one will think less of you for that. No one would think less of you if you never joined the Avengers again. You’re a hero, no matter where you go from here. You’ve saved the world more times over than you should’ve had to, and whatever ghosts haunt you because of SI’s weapons bullshit or Ultron’s decisions aren’t your fault and also shouldn’t touch you anymore.

“Everything your father touched seemed to turn to death, but everything you touch comes to life, Tony. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

And Tony felt almost paralyzed at Rhodey’s words, and he silently pulled his best friend in for a hug, unable to express in any other manner how grateful, thankful, overwhelmingly blessed he was. 

“Thank you,” he finally choked out, feeling the inadequacy of the words claw at him, but Rhodey nodded, looking insanely relieved and grateful. 

“Always, Tony,” Rhodey promised fiercely. “You’re my brother in every way that matters. I will always be here for you, and I will never give up on you.”

Tony felt warm, every inch or him vibrating with that promise. “I feel the same for you, Honey Bear,” he said, keeping the wobble out of his voice.

 

 

The sedan pulled up to a discreet back door to the SI press room that Tony had specifically left off the floor plan for the purpose of slipping in and out of conferences unseen if necessary. Tony was feeling jittery, and his new abilities were responding accordingly; breaking news stories, random internet searches, and current Twitter trends flashed in the corner of his eyes, rotating in and out erratically as though his superhuman abilities were searching for an outlet for his nervous energy just as much as his physical abilities. 

“Nervous?” Pepper asked quietly as they entered the building undetected, slipping through empty hallways.

“What makes you say that?” Tony tried to deflect, and she raised an eyebrow at him, reaching to still his hand where it had been tapping anxiously against his thigh.

“You have a couple of tells,” she teased gently as they came to a stop outside their final destination. Tony could hear the steady cacophony of voices on the other side of the door, Extremis automatically logging the voices and searching for matches, names of people it identified popping up in the corner of his vision. 

“Not exactly the news I wanted right before a press conference,” he quipped, going for flippant. But Pepper looked at him seriously, and he braced himself for a speech similar to what Rhodey gave.

But Pepper, as always, surprised him. “I could tell you that you don’t have to do this, but I think we’d both know I’d be lying. Not because you owe them anything, but because you’re _you_ , and it’s not in you to _not_ do this. So just know that I will be with you the whole way, Tony. Anything and everything you need during this, I will help you as best I can,” she vowed. And Tony couldn’t believe he’d _ever_ managed to find two of the most wonderful people that existed in the past, present, and future (three, if you included Happy, which he most certainly did), and claim them as his own. It was genuinely astonishing, and worth far more than some paltry fancy superpower.

Unable to speak, he squeezed the hand Pepper had grabbed his with. “You are and have always been my rock, Ms. Potts,” he said, voice uncharacteristically serious. “I trust you with everything.” Then he forced a grin onto his face, determined to break the somber atmosphere before they stepped onto the stage and could let it color the mood of the conference. “Including fixing the aftermath of my terrible decisions. And since this might be one of them, I’m gonna need you on your A-game, Pep,” he declared, and Pepper rolled her eyes but smiled back at him. 

“If that’s all, Mr. Stark,” she said sarcastically.

“Let’s do this, Ms. Potts,” he said, and she nodded, took a deep steadying breath, and stepped through the door onto the stage. Tony caught the briefest glimpse of a packed press room, at the front of which sat a table with two chairs and two microphones, before the door slammed shut. He didn’t love this part of the plan for the press conference, but Pepper had insisted. It was his mess to clean up that he was in this state, and he was loathe to have Pepper step into the line of fire first without him, but she’d very deftly pointed out that him stepping out with no context or warning would likely result in some sort of shocked outcry that could very easily end with people getting injured and left her with a bigger mess to clean up. Much better, she’d argued, to let her go out first and, at the very least, warn everyone that they were about to see something that would entirely shock them. She’d wanted to be the one to announce Tony’s age regression entirely before Tony set foot into the room, but Tony had shouted her down, insisting that that would result in her being forced to field off all the aggressive questions and potential bad reactions on her own without him able to even observe, and he would absolutely not stand for putting her in danger that he couldn’t even monitor. 

So this had been their compromise – her stepping out and cautioning the crowd to expect a shock before Tony made his appearance. 

It made Tony a bit itchy to let her out of his sight; he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. But he could at least hear her and – wait, he actually _could_ do one better than that. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before, other than that it was still new to him. Tentatively, he reached out, feeling the thrum of the energy all the tech in the conference room was giving off – the microphone, cameras, people’s cell phones, computers, everything. And now he could feel messages traveling to various phones, could feel as the microphone registered sound waves. It was almost staggering, how much was there, and Tony made a mental note not to try this in a tech store anytime soon. But regardless, he finally found what he was searching for, and he easily slipped into the data stream emanating from the security camera pointed at the stage. 

It was very strange – it was as though he had two screens in overlay in front of him, his current position still visible but the press conference shading over it. Pepper had already taken her seat and switched on the microphone and was holding up one hand to quiet the room.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, her voice perfectly professional and easily commanding. “Mr. Stark will be out here shortly. I wanted to be the first to greet you because I felt the need to warn you so that we can still have a productive press conference. You all know by now that Mr. Stark was taken by Hydra after Siberia, and he has been with them for the past four years in a capacity similar to Mr. Barnes. However, Hydra’s…enhancements of Mr. Stark took a slightly different route than with the Winter Soldier. He does not look the same as he did, and I believe his appearance will cause you some surprise.” There were surprised murmurs in the audience at that, but Pepper didn’t stop. “We have confirmed that this is, indeed, Mr. Stark. He is in possession of all of his memories, and his DNA matches our medical files.” Tony jolted – clever Pepper, he hadn’t even thought about them questioning whether or not he was who he claimed. “Now with all that said, I’d like for you to welcome back Tony Stark.”

That was his cue then. Pulling out of the security camera, Tony took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then opened the door to step onto the stage. The room was dead silent for a good four seconds, and then – 

Tony sighed as he plopped into the seat beside Pepper, letting the cacophony of shocked and baffled reporters wear itself out, knowing it would be useless to try to calm them down yet. 

“Told you,” she murmured to him, one edge of her lip quirked up in a smirk.

“Bragging’s not very nice,” Tony told her, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out. He thought behaving like a child might not help achieve their goal of _calming_ the outcry.

“You didn’t pick me for this job because I’m nice,” she retorted, eyes twinkling. 

“True,” Tony conceded. “Your verbal smack-downs are legendary at this point, I defy anyone to cross you and walk away with their dignity.” Pepper preened at the praise.

“Think we should start trying to calm them?” she asked, and he shrugged. The noise _was_ starting to recede a little; maybe they’d reached a point where the crowd could be settled.

“Might as well.” He turned to face the reporters who were staring at him with something akin to disbelief, question after shouted question falling from their mouths. He held up a hand, as Pepper had done earlier, leaning into the microphone in front of him. “I can answer a lot more of these if you ask them one at a time,” he said, knowing that not everyone would be able to hear him, but knowing they’d get the gist of his words. Thankfully it seemed to work, the noise quieting to a steady grumble and the reporters slowly returning to their seats. Well. Show time, then.

“Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice steady and looking out over the crowd. “I know this has to come as a shock to all of you. It was certainly a shock to me, too, and I’m still trying to accept it. I think this will go faster if I explain the basics of what I know and open the floor for questions after that. So I’ll start with Siberia. From what I’ve been able to tell, what Captain Rogers has told you about what happened there is true. I went as a friend but ended up learning something that caused me to…lose my head a bit, shall we say. I reacted poorly, and we fought. The Captain disabled my suit and left, and I was found by Hydra a while later – I’m not sure how long exactly.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, aware it was a tell of his exhaustion but feeling tired just thinking of how to explain the next part. The press, blessedly, remained quiet, seeming to respect that this was a difficult story to tell. “I don’t remember much of what happened in the early days. I know they injected me with something before starting my…programming. Whatever it was, it gave me the same enhanced strength and healing that Barnes and Rogers have and also apparently turned back my biological clock a bit – and I am not ashamed to admit, genius or no, that I have no idea how that works,” Tony said with a self-deprecating smile, earning a slight rumble of laughter from the audience. “Regardless, Hydra did their whole memory-washing, brain-wiping, mind-controlling thing and used my particular skill set for a whole host of things that are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.” His voice turned bleak at the end, and he felt Pepper’s hand on his thigh, offering comfort. He took a deep breath. “Captain Rogers and his crew found me when they were raiding a Hydra base and managed to contact Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes, who had me transferred to a hospital here where they were able to use the processes they’d used to deprogram the Winter Soldier on me. And now here I am,” he smiled wryly, gesturing widely.

“That’s a _very_ brief overview of what’s happened, but I assumed you lot would be more eager for the questions than just sitting here listening to me prattle on,” Tony said with a conspiratorial wink, earning more laughter. “So I’d like to open the floor for questions at this time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony navigates his return to the public, the return of the Rogues, and the unexpected connection to Bucky.

Sometimes Bucky wondered if being with the Rogues was really all that much better than being with Hydra.

Sure, that was mostly hyperbole – he could absolutely acknowledge that _not_ being forced to murder people was infinitely better than being an impartial killer. But _Jesus_ these guys were so insufferably entitled. Even his Stevie appeared to be affected, acting like the public’s hero-worship and the adulation of all around him were his due. It was sickening, and Bucky hated spending any time around the Rogues. He found himself escaping to the labs with the wonderful Shuri, or seeking the company of some of the Dora Milaje who would entertain him with a bit of sparring as often as possible, just to retain his sanity.

And his sanity was certainly in question. Even after they’d rehabilitated him and wiped the trigger words from his mind, even after they’d given him back all his memories, he was still haunted by the crimes he’d committed under the purview of Hydra. He didn’t think he’d ever escape that red in his ledger, the screams of his victims, the cries of the innocent. Sure, he hadn’t been in control of his actions – but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t observed every second of it, an unwilling, horrified, tormented third party to those peoples’ deaths.

But he thought perhaps the one that haunted him most was the disappearance of Tony Stark. Because he hadn’t been the Winter Soldier in that instance; he’d been in control of himself, and he’d _chosen_ to attack a man who’d just found out that his parents had been murdered by Bucky’s own hands. And sure, if he’d just defended himself to keep himself alive, maybe he could permit himself the excuse – but he _hadn’t_. He’d followed Stevie into battle, and he held no higher regret, especially considering what he’d observed of Steve and the Rogues since then. And for Stark to go so ominously missing right after their fight? God, Bucky hoped the man had died. He hoped Stark had died and the media was just keeping quiet about it, because the alternative was too horrific for Barnes to bear considering.

 

 

But when did Bucky ever get what he wanted?

It was their fifth Hydra base when they found him. He and Romanoff and Barton had been cleaning up behind Steve, making sure they didn’t leave anything or anyone incriminating behind, when they finally caught up to their other super soldier, who was slumped against the floor in front of a suit of familiar red-and-gold armor.

_Oh, god, no, _was Bucky’s first horrified thought. Since he’d heard of Iron Man’s disappearance at that Hydra base, he’d feared that he’d inflicted his own fate on the other man. And _lord_ , he’d hoped and prayed with all his strength that he was wrong; but those hopes appeared to have gotten him nowhere, if the sight in front of him were to be believed.__

__Romanoff and Barton appeared to be experiencing similar states of shock and disbelief – and Bucky noted with surprise that the man in the armor wasn’t taking advantage of that, hovering over Steve as though uncertain of his next move. His eyebrows raised in surprise; perhaps there was more of Tony Stark in there than there had been of him after years in Hydra’s clutches._ _

__“Tony, are you in there? Or is someone else piloting the suit?” Steve demanded, pushing himself to his feet from beside the suit, and the suit didn’t even turn to him. Steve didn’t appear to like being ignored. “Who are you?” he snarled, and Bucky kind of wanted to deck him. If this was a brainwashed Hydra agent, he could do with a little more fucking tact, thank you._ _

__To his surprise, though, the suit answered – though his answer horrified Bucky. “Asset designation: the Mechanic,” the suit said tonelessly, and if there was any doubt that its pilot was under Hydra’s mind-control, it was vanquished now. Bucky had described enough of his experiences to the group that Romanoff, Barton, and Stevie all knew what that sort of response meant._ _

__“Are you…did Hydra brainwash you?” Stevie asked, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes._ _

__“Stevie, if it’s him, he’s not going to be able to answer that,” Bucky said, trying to repress the ‘you fucking idiot’ tone out of his voice. He mentally catalogued the abilities of the Black Widow and Hawkeye, determining that he was best suited for further interaction with a brainwashed Hydra agent. He stepped forward slightly, then halted when one of the armor’s repulsors came up and aimed at him. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, trying to decide how best to proceed._ _

__“Mechanic, I’m assuming you’ve identified me?” he asked, testing the water, so to speak_ _

__“You are a rogue former Hydra Asset, designation: Winter Solder,” the suit responded mechanically, and Bucky nodded._ _

__“And what are your orders?” he requested. The Mechanic paused, and Bucky felt a horrified sense of déjà vu where he could feel the Mechanic checking his protocols and determining what he was allowed to and required to disclose. Bucky wasn’t sure what his status as a former Hydra agent permitted him to know, but he was hopeful maybe he’d be able to break through enough defenses to talk the Mechanic down, so to speak._ _

__“Order 2-alpha-epsilon-9-2. Attack non-Hydra personnel. Shoot to kill,” the Mechanic stated finally, and Bucky nodded, having expected no less._ _

__“I figured as much,” he commented, maintaining eye contact with the Mechanic and mind whirring for ways out of this that involved rescuing the poor brainwashed bastard. Of course, the Mechanic appeared to be fighting his own programming, if his behavior was anything to go by – Bucky knew firsthand that the Mechanic would’ve been trained to take advantage of any weakness, any surprise or dismay an enemy had shown, and the fact that the Mechanic _hadn’t_ so far indicated that maybe Tony Stark (for he assumed that was the _most likely_ person who was ultimately at the helm, though it could’ve been someone else piloting the suit) was still fighting to the best of his ability._ _

__“What do we do, Buck? Is that Tony in there?” Steve asked desperately. Bucky frowned, uncertainly_ _

__“I dunno for sure, Stevie. It definitely could be him, but Hydra coulda made him make a suit for someone else, too,” he responded. “Mechanic, are you permitted to remove your helmet?”_ _

__The Mechanic thought for a moment, most likely reviewing his orders, before stating, “Confirmed, Asset can remove helmet at will.”_ _

__“Please remove your helmet,” Bucky requested, forcing authority into his voice to encourage quick obedience._ _

__But before the Mechanic could do so, a frantic-sounding voice sounded over the base’s intercom, echoing around them. “Mechanic, former Asset designation: Winter Soldier is no longer included as Hydra personnel. Mission protocol: engage hostiles. _Immediately._.”_ _

__Well, fuck._ _

__“Ready to comply,” the Mechanic responded, and attacked without hesitation._ _

__“Don’t hurt him,” Steve screamed as they engaged, and the group fought, though Bucky privately felt that the Mechanic was pulling his punches. He was certain from past experiences the armor could pack more of a hit than that, and he was fairly certain that the armor hadn’t been going for the kill even in Siberia. God, he hoped that meant Tony had a tighter grip on the situation than he ever had._ _

__Eventually, blessedly, they overpowered him, a strong punch to the forehead knocking him out, and the armor receded, revealing someone extremely young-looking, but undeniably Tony Stark._ _

__“It’s him,” Steve breathed, looking mesmerized._ _

__

__

__

__Tony flopped face-down onto the couch in his lab with an exhausted muffled groan._ _

__“Tired?” Rhodey asked, his voice sarcastically amused._ _

__“I hate press conferences,” Tony mumbled into the couch cushion._ _

__“Sorry, what was that? I don’t speak petulant tired child,” Rhodey teased, and Tony raised his head to glare at him._ _

__“You’re gonna hold this age thing over my head now, aren’t you,” he accused, and Rhodey grinned._ _

__“You’re goddamn straight, I am,” he declared, plopping down on the other end of the couch._ _

__“Cruel,” Tony lamented, dropping his face back down to the cushion. “Cruel and mean.” Face buried in the soft plush seat, he felt rather than saw Rhodey reach out to touch him, rubbing soothing circles on his back._ _

__“It looked like the press conference went pretty well,” he offered, and Tony made a noise of agreement, reluctantly turning himself over so he could look at his Platypus._ _

__“I had to tell them more than I really wanted to, but no more than I expected to,” Tony said, frowning wearily, and Rhodey tilted his head at him._ _

__“What had you not wanted to tell them? Everything you said painted you in a really sympathetic light, as far as I could tell,” Rhodey said confusedly, but Tony shook his head._ _

__“I hadn’t wanted to have to tell them everything that happened in Siberia – the reason I attacked, and all that,” Tony confessed, looking bothered – but Rhodey only looked more confused._ _

__“Wait, why not? That only makes you look even _better_! The main thing Rogers had in his corner was his insistence that you’d attacked first in Siberia, and now that everyone knows it was because you’d just found out the Winter Soldier killed your parents and Rogers knew about it and didn’t tell you – that wipes away every bit of credibility to his character,” Rhodey said passionately, looking progressively incensed, but Tony made a noise of frustration._ _

__“I _know_ , that’s the _problem_ ,” he said, eyes flashing and pushing himself to a seated position. “I’d been trying to keep that part as vague as possible on purpose to keep that kind of hostility _away_ from the Rogues, but of course I wasn’t going to lie to the public when asked outright. There’s been enough lying when it comes to my parents’ deaths. But now they look bad, and I can’t do much to help them out.”_ _

__Rhodey looked at him like he was crazy. “Tones, why the fuck would you _want_ to help them? They’re the ones who betrayed you. They left you to die. They’re the fucking reason you’ve been with Hydra for the past four fucking years, Tony, what the _fuck_.”_ _

__Rhodey looked like he was about to completely lose it, chest heaving, and Tony had to push back the Mechanic, who was pressing forward with demands to contain the situation. “It’s not like that, Rhodey. It’s not for them. None of what I do would be for them,” he said calmly, reassuringly, maintaining eye contact to convey his sincerity. He waited a few breaths until Rhodey had seemed to calm himself and was breathing more evenly._ _

__“They why?” Rhodey bit out._ _

__“Two reasons: first, we might need them. Much as I hate to admit it, they work well as a team – sans me, of course – and they could be useful in protecting people. And I still believe that there’s something out there coming for us – I saw the Chitauri warships, and I don’t think that was a one-time deal. We may need all the help we can get, and that includes them. And second, a distrust for them and their ability to protect people could carry over into a distrust in the ability of the New Avengers to keep people safe, and that _cannot_ be the outcome of this debacle. Rogers made a horrifying decision with awful consequences, but I will _not_ see civilians pay the price for it. So yes, I will protect their reputations to some degree if I can. As much as I hate it, as much as I’d rather see them _rot_ and _suffer_ for all the – all the _shit_ I’ve had to….to go through…to _do_.”_ _

__And then Tony couldn’t maintain his determined stoicism any longer, the memories of the blood on his hands too fresh, too present, too wrapped up in a bright-red guilt-ridden bow. His shoulders shook, and Rhodey was immediately contrite, rubbing soothing circles and reassuring him in low, comforting tones until Tony was finally able to pull himself back together._ _

__He met Rhodey’s eyes, knowing that his pain and loss and despair was shining through his own. “So I will protect them as best I can, for the good of everyone.”_ _

__There was a tenuous silence, and then Rhodey said softly, “The world could never deserve you, Tony.”_ _

__Tony smiled tiredly. “Perhaps not, but I’ll have to do for now.”_ _

__

__

__The Rogues’ pardons came much more quickly than Tony had expected. Considering the public outcry, the _hatred_ much of the public was expressing for them, Tony had expected the pardons to take ages. But apparently with the threat of Hydra turning more of their “good guys” into mindless agents who could wreak untold destruction (Tony still refused to look at the numbers of people he’d killed. He knew he’d have to face it at some point, but he just _couldn’t_. Not yet at least), it appeared the government was more than willing to assimilate as many supers into their ranks as possible. _ _

__In the meantime, Tony had a chance to meet the new team – and, frankly, he kind of fell in love with them._ _

__It was so different from his old team. Even with his past with Hydra, they seemed to trust him implicitly. Captain Danvers – or Carol, as she’d demanded he call her – had thanked him wholeheartedly for continuing to fund them even in his absence and earnestly inquired if they could sit down and discuss the best ways to combine her abilities and Tony’s knowledge to accomplish light speed travel, which Tony had enthusiastically accepted._ _

__Dr. Strange had been another surprising enigma; full of the same snark and sarcasm as Tony himself, he’d grown on the genius like a mold, and Tony found himself looking forward to the times Strange would portal into his lab, no matter how he protested his distaste for magic._ _

__And Peter, of course – Peter had grown so much in his absence. The kid was 20 years old now, was 2 years into his education at MIT (following in his idol’s footsteps, he’d claimed, and Tony had had to turn away to hide a tear at the revelation). The boy spent so much time in his lab now, and Tony loved every moment of it._ _

__And that wasn’t even getting into the rest of the team. Honestly, Tony hadn’t realized a team could feel like this. He trusted all of them to have his back, no matter the circumstances; even if he fucked up or made a mistake, they might frown at him but they’d never abandon him – and that was a peace of mind he’d _never_ had with the former Avengers._ _

__So between movie nights, battles, random “drop in sessions” at his lab, and just general shenanigans at the Compound they’d moved into in his absence, _he finally had a fucking family_. Rhodey may be gone with the military, Pepper may be busy with SI, Happy may be busy with security detail, and those three would always be his closest family – but the New Avengers? The New Avengers stepped in in ways he never could’ve dreamed possible. It took almost no time at all before Strange became his new science buddy, Jessica his new drinking buddy, Peter his kid-but-totally-not-his-kid-but-definitely-his-kid, and the rest his bodyguards who weren’t really bodyguards because he could fucking handle himself, but they insisted that they would be. God, he loved them. _ _

__The New Avengers were his family in every single way he’d hoped the original Avengers would be and had fallen short._ _

__But regardless, the old Avengers needed to be brought back into the fold – in his opinion, at least. Many of the New Avengers disagreed with him – but, _shockingly, amazingly_ , they trusted his judgment, along with the words of Vision, Murdoch, and the Fantastic Four, who were eager to have as much support behind the Accords as possible. With their support, Tony was able to bring the idea to the Accords Council, who were remarkably eager to approve any and every idea that Tony set forth. Tony could only suppose his own popularity with the people made them hesitant to go against him, which made him vaguely uneasy; he had no interest in becoming some sort of de-facto dictator. _ _

__But his request was pushed through, and pardons were offered, and the Rogue Avengers were officially coming home._ _

__

__

__“You know you don’t have to be there to greet them, right?” Rhodey murmured, leaning against the bedroom door._ _

__“I know,” Tony responded automatically, giving his platypus a reassuring smile. He reached down and snatched a slightly rumpled Black Sabbath shirt from the dirty pile on the floor, quickly changing pulling it on over his faded jeans. “I’m a team leader of the New Avengers, so I should be there with the rest of the leaders to greet them,” he insisted, the words worn from the number of times he’d repeated them over the past few days. Rhodey frowned, eyes concerned, but nodded. This was what Tony wanted, and Rhodey would respect that._ _

__“Not wearing a suit?” Rhodey asked instead of arguing, arching at eyebrow at the casual attire. Tony shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile._ _

__“Figure I’m gonna want to go down to the lab and hammer some stuff out after we finish settling them in, didn’t want to have to come back and change,” he admitted, and Rhodey made a noise of understanding. His best friend’s indulgent smile warmed Tony._ _

__“The bots will probably want to see you, too. I imagine they’re worried – they can tell when you’re anxious,” Rhodey commented fondly, and _god_ it made Tony so happy that Rhodey seemed to basically think of Tony’s bots as people in their own right. _ _

__“Probably so, they’re too smart for their own good,” Tony agreed._ _

__“They take after their creator,” Rhodey smiled, ruffling Tony’s hair._ _

__

__

__Rhodey stood by Tony on the roof of the Compound, watching as the Quinjet touched down with a swirling mixture of righteous fury and trepidation for how this would affect Tony. The genius had come such a long way since he’d first woken up in the hospital, disoriented and shell-shocked, and Rhodey had to suppress the urge to blast the stupid Quinjet out of the sky and let all the bastards rot in hell at the memory of the broken man who’d put on a tough face for the rest of the world while trying to make himself untouchable in private. These fuckers had put Tony through _Hydra_. And even ignoring that, which was a crime Rhodey would _never_ forgive them for, they had abused him so badly beforehand that Rhodey still hated _himself_ for not noticing it and putting a stop to it earlier. It had taken far too long since his return to show Tony that his experiences with the Rogues weren’t what he should expect from teammates, from people who claimed to _care_ about him – and he’d be damned if he let the Rogues suck Tony back into their godawful mind games again._ _

__He knew the other team members felt the same, as evidenced by the hard expressions on the other leaders’ faces as they lined up in front of the Compound entrance. Stephen Strange was positively glowering at the jet, Carol Danvers’s face was carefully impassive, Sue Storm’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, and Hope Van Dyne looked more pissed than Stephen had ever seen her._ _

__The approaching Rogues seemed overall unfazed by the lack of warm welcome, and Rhodey took a moment to catalogue each of the traitors. Scott Lang was trailing behind a little, the lone Rogue who looked a bit cowed. Sam Wilson, in contrast, stood tall and proud, though Stephen thought he detected a bit of defensiveness in his posture that spoke of a guilty conscience. Barnes, Rhodey was surprised to see, wore an expression of mixed uncertainty, gratitude, and wariness; Rhodey wasn’t sure what to make of that. Clint Barton looked openly hostile, returning their glares with one of his own, and Natasha Romanov had her poker face on, giving nothing away. Wanda Maximoff was sneering, her hateful gaze focused on Tony, and Rhodey was glad Stephen had put wards around Tony’s mind so she couldn’t wreak further havoc. Steve Rogers, though – he simply looked pleased, his expression not demonstrating any acknowledgment of the hostility aimed his way at all, and Rhodey would’ve thought it was a tactic to get under their skin except, from what Tony had told him, he was fairly certain Rogers simply had no idea the New Avengers might not be thrilled at his arrival._ _

__“Welcome to the Compound,” Carol greeted them evenly when the Rogues came to a stop in front of them. They’d decided it would be best if Carol did most of the talking since the rest of the leaders weren’t sure they could stay even-tempered enough, and _no one_ was letting Tony talk to them any more than he absolutely had to._ _

__“I think you mean welcome _back_ ,” Rogers corrected, smiling at her. God, the man was clueless._ _

__“And I think _you’ll_ find much has changed here. I meant what I said, Captain,” Carol responded, her voice not losing its neutrality but taking on an edge of steel. Steve blinked at her, looking distinctly put-out, but then shrugged, eyes moving away from Carol to fix on – oh _hell_ no._ _

__“Hey, Tony,” Rogers grinned. “It’s good to see you looking a bit more like yourself.”_ _

__And beside him, he felt Tony jerk a little bit, unwelcome reminder of his last moments with Hydra undoubtedly shooting through his mind._ _

__“Oh, you did _not_ just say that,” Hope snapped, and Rogers looked at her confusedly._ _

__“What – “ he started, but the New Avengers all seemed united in their complete lack of interest in hearing the rest of that sentence._ _

__“And why exactly was Tony not looking like himself the last time you saw him?” Rhodey demanded, shifting forward menacingly, and the Rogues did some shifting of their own, watching the New Avengers warily. Rhodey noted red swirling around the witch’s hands and trusted Stephen to tamped stamp out her pathetic attempts at magic if necessary. She wasn’t hurting anyone yet, and Tony would be miffed if they made the situation worse – but he hoped Stephen kept a close eye on her. “Possibly because, you know, you left your _teammate_ to die in enemy territory? And then, lucky him, he got saved from death by Hydra? Ringing any bells?”_ _

__And Rogers shook his head in denial, holding up his hands and having the goddamn nerve to smile. “No, no, it wasn’t like that!” he protested, aiming a soft smile at Tony. “Tony just likes to exaggerate sometimes,” he said indulgently, as though Tony’s complaints that they _nearly killed him and left him to be enslaved to Hydra_ were simply inconveniences that they humored him by listening to._ _

__“Exaggerate?” Stephen spat. “Mr. Rogers, I’m a _surgeon_ and I can say with confidence backed by all of my medical expertise from _decades_ of studying and practicing medicine that it’s only due to the absolute travesty that was human experimentation done on Tony that Tony is even still alive after what you did to him in Siberia, you self-centered, self-righteous, absolute _mockery_ of American patrio – “_ _

__And then he cut himself off, feeling Tony’s cautionary touch on his arm._ _

__“Not worth it,” Tony advised, warm brown eyes locking on him, helping calm him down. Stephen let out an incensed huff but let himself be talked down. Tony turned his attention to the other leaders with their various expressions of outrage, raising a brow in warning. “That goes for all of you – it’s not worth it.”_ _

__“What’s not worth it, Stark? Steve telling the truth about what a liar you are? You’ve probably been filling their heads with lies about us for months, haven’t you?” Barton sneered, and Tony holds up a hand, cutting off the furious protests on the parts of the rest of the New Avengers before they could be said._ _

__Tony took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment, then released it, fixing a steady gaze on the Rogues. “Let’s go to the conference room and we can bring you up to date on the changes made to the Avengers,” he said evenly, and _god_ Rhodey admired this man who was a hundred thousand times better than every single one of the Rogues combined._ _

__Before the Rogues could do something stupid – like talk – Tony spun on his heel, striding swiftly to the door. Rhodey glared with all his might at the Rogues before following, and the rest of the leaders fell in line behind him._ _

__

__

__When they made it down the long corridors to the conference room, they settled in around the oval table, the leaders ending up on one side and the Rogues on the other, each side glaring at the other distrustfully – and yeah, this was going pretty much exactly as badly as Tony had thought it would._ _

__Although he had to guiltily admit he’d been touched and heart-warmed at how quickly and completely his team had backed him on the helipad. It was going to make this discussion that much more difficult, now that the Rogues were all pissy, but Tony frankly couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it._ _

__“So, first thing’s first, we’ve placed – “ Carol started._ _

__“First thing’s first, I want an apology from Stark,” Barton interrupted, eyes boring holes in Tony’s head. Maximoff and Wilson nodded along, and Rogers had an expression on his face like he agreed but didn’t want to say anything._ _

__“Excuse me?” Carol said disbelievingly – and lord, it was bad if Carol was losing her cool. Although it looked like maybe she wasn’t losing her cool so much as just genuinely convinced she’d heard him wrong. Yeah, that’d be nice, Carol._ _

__“It’s just, after everything Tony put us through, I think it’ll help us all feel more comfortable to just hear him say he’s sorry,” Rogers said earnestly, and the room was so silent Tony wondered for a moment if Stephen had cast some sort of spell. But nope, glancing at his friends’ faces, he could see that they were all just completely dumbfounded._ _

__“They’re delusional, they’re actually delusional,” Sue muttered, wide-eyed, and Tony wasn’t sure she was even aware she’d been speaking aloud._ _

__“Right, uh, okay I guess I’ll – “ Tony started._ _

__“No, absolutely not,” Rhodey snapped, and Tony got pinned with a glare._ _

__“Rhodey, it’ll be easier if I just – “_ _

__“ _No_ , Tony,” Rhodey said, and Tony’s mouth snapped shut startled by the vehemence and venom in his best friend’s voice. “They have taken advantage of you, manipulated you, used your time and resources without a shred of gratitude, lied to you, verbally abused you, then Rogers beat you up and left you to die in Siberia, after which time you were kidnapped and brainwashed by motherfucking Hydra for the past four years, and then you returned and worked your ass off to bring them back home. _You will not absolutely not fucking apologize to them_.”_ _

__Tony could count on one hand the number of times he’d been rendered speechless – and now this was one of them. The absolute fury in Rhodey’s eyes was honestly terrifying, and Tony couldn’t believe someone could get that worked up to defend _him_. That worked up _at_ him, sure – but this might be the first time someone had felt that much anger on his behalf. _ _

__“Gotta say I’m with the Colonel on this one, Tones,” Stephen commented on Tony’s other side, and he heard murmurs of agreement from the rest of the New Avengers. Tony swallowed against his the suddenly choked-up feeling in his throat, unsure what to even say._ _

__“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’ve been hearing the whole story,” Black Widow said smoothly from the other side of the table, aiming a charming smile at the other leaders. Her gaze flicked to him, seeming to soften in sympathy, and Tony kind of wanted to punch her. “He means well, but his ego just gets in the way of his common sense sometimes, and – “_ _

__“I swear to god if she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to shut her up,” Hope snapped, looking murderous, and Sue placed a calming hand on her arm, though she looked equally infuriated._ _

__“Tony, I hate to say it, but I think we’ll probably get more done if you’re not in the room for them to antagonize,” Carol said softly, and Tony felt a pang, feeling ever-so-slightly like he was being kicked out. But that wasn’t what was happening and he knew it, and there was no real reason he needed to be here – the others could easily fill the Rogues in on everything they needed to know, and his presence was clearly just dragging out what was already a painful process._ _

__He nodded, pushing his chair back and standing. “Good luck,” he told them (warned them), then glanced at Rhodey. “Come visit me in the labs later?” he requested, giving him a soft smile, which Rhodey returned easily._ _

__“You got it. Don’t work too hard, buddy,” Rhodey said fondly, and Tony grinned, already picturing all the upgrades he could be making._ _

__“No promises,” he responded cheekily, then bounced out of the room without a single word or backwards glance at the Rogues._ _

__

__

__Rhodey wandered down to Tony’s lab later, once the meeting was finally done. “Miss FRIDAY, could you please let Tony know I’m here?” Rhodey requested._ _

__“Sure thing, Colonel,” FRIDAY responded, and Rhodey smiled as he waited. The door slid open easily a moment later._ _

__“Thank you, Miss FRIDAY,” Rhodey said as he entered the lab._ _

__“A pleasure as always, Colonel,” FRIDAY responded, sounding entirely too sincere to be aimed at his simple thanks. He wondered if FRIDAY had been paying attention to the little scene in the conference room earlier today – and who was he kidding, of course she had been. The way Tony had explained it, she was essentially able to watch every room in the Compound and perform a thousand other functions at the same time with perfect concentration and no strain. Rhodey envied that._ _

__Tony appeared to be yelling at DUM-E (again) when Rhodey stepped into the room, and Rhodey was immediately thrust back into their MIT days. With how young Tony looked now, how innocent and so much less like the world had laid into him _hard_ , playing with his bots – it made him long for simpler times._ _

__“Why’s Butterfingers wearing the DUNCE cap?” Rhodey called, drawing Tony’s attention, and he looked up and smiled, eyes flashing blue. Rhodey had noticed they tended to do that when Tony was interfacing with something._ _

__“He knows what he did,” Tony insisted sniffily, shaking off DUM-E and walking over to Rhodey to clap him on the back. “So, what’s the damage?” he asked, his voice only slightly sarcastic, mostly seriously curious as to the havoc the Rogue Avengers had already managed to wreak._ _

__Rhodey sighed tiredly, sinking onto the ratty, grease-stained couch, and Tony flopped beside him, immediately popping his feet onto Rhodey’s legs. “They’re just being jackasses about everything.” Tony let out an unsurprised noise. “They want to know why they’ve been put in the East Wing and don’t have access to the West Wing anymore, they want to know why they no longer have access to your funds to procure clothes and food and everything else, they want to know why Rogers hasn’t been reinstated as team captain…they’re just generally being a nightmare.”_ _

__Tony hummed guiltily. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with them, sugarbear,” he said, looking distraught, and Rhodey frowned at him._ _

__“Hey now, none of that. We agreed the best course of action was to bring them home. Their behavior isn’t on you, Tones,” Rhodey said firmly, and Tony smiled though he looked unconvinced. Rhodey’s heart panged, and he drew Tony close to him on the couch, ignoring Tony’s noise of confusion._ _

__“Tones, there’s something I need you to do for me,” Rhodey said, looking into Tony’s eyes and trying to convey the gravity of his words._ _

__“Anything, Rhodey,” Tony responded immediately, looking perplexed but determined._ _

__“I need you to grow a spine when it comes to the Rogues. And I don’t mean that as an insult to you. I mean that you’re too kind, too willing to see the good in others and, if there’s no good to be found, too willing to take on harm others aim your way if you think it’ll help the people around you. But I need you to stop doing that with them. You’re letting them walk all over you again, _reduce_ you – “ and Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Rhodey shot him a look. “You were prepared to apologize. To _them_.” And Tony’s mouth closed, looking a little cowed. And from there, Rhodey’s voice built, getting steadily more impassioned. “I need you to stop catering to them and passively letting them treat you cruelly, and instead I need you to start being Tony Fucking Stark with them. _Please_ , Tony.”_ _

__And there was a moment of silence between them where Tony stared at him, eyes incalculable, before he finally nodded. “You’re right,” he whispered, and Rhodey felt a beam break across his face. “You’re right, Rhodey, I haven’t been handling them right. I thought being passive and unchallenging would give us the smoothest transition to integrating them into the team, but it would also put me in the exact same position I was in with the previous Avengers, and that just…that can’t happen. I won’t let them do that to me again.”_ _

__And the severe conviction in his best friend’s tone, the hard glint his eye, the challenging half-smirk gave Rhodey all the confirmation he needed that Tony Fucking Stark was back, and he was here to stay this time._ _

__

__The next few days passed surprisingly quietly. Tony may have decided to put his foot down in terms of the Rogues’ treatment of him, but that didn’t mean he had to seek out their company and shove it in their faces; just the opposite, in fact. He preferred to avoid unnecessary fighting, so he simply had FRIDAY keep him aware of whether or not he’d run into a Rogue when he went on midnight snack binges._ _

__So far, he’d been easily in the clear, pattering into the deserted communal kitchen at godawful hours with no actual disruption to his already-fucked sleep schedule._ _

__That all changed during one brisk 3 a.m. coffee run, when Tony was half-asleep, pressing buttons on the coffee machine without any real discernment for what the buttons signified and instead choosing to interface with his machine and desperately imparting a plea for _coffee, please, please, please_ , which the machine seemed delighted to comply. A warm, delicious, caffeinated scent filled the air, and Tony threw his head back and moaned. God, was there anything more perfect in the world than coffee?_ _

__Half-blind with sleep deprivation, he felt around his cabinet until he felt a mug that seemed appropriately large for his needs, pulling it down and setting it in front of the coffee machine, waiting oh-so-patiently for the machine to tell him it was done. When it chimed cheerfully in his head to signify its readiness, Tony grinned, reaching forward to snatch up the pot and pour it into his mug – only to misjudge in his sleep-deprived state, and accidentally end up with piping hot coffee streaming along his hand and arm._ _

__“Shit,” he hissed. “Shit shit shit.” He set the mug and pot down carefully – he still had enough presence of mind to take care of the things that actually _mattered_ , thank you – then hissed his pain, searching for the sink._ _

__“This way, neuklyuzhiy,” an amused voice sounded, and he froze, his lack of awareness of another person present in the room sending his head into defensive mode. Mentally, he calculated escape routes, closest doors, vents, windows; the Mechanic catalogued the armor’s readiness for deployment, isolated the sound waves to have come from approximately 0.56 meters, 56 degrees to the Mechanic’s left. In this position with the invader so close, the Mechanic could deploy the armor’s Wendy protocol for minimal distance damage and make his escape._ _

__“Hey, doll, I didn’t mean to frighten you – you’ve got some burns on your hands, and you need to get them under some cool water before they get worse,” the voice sounded again, taking on a soothing non-confrontational tone, and the Mechanic was confused. He’d never had care for his being expressed before; he healed easily enough, why would anyone express concern._ _

__The Mechanic spun supernaturally quickly, eyes locking onto the speaker and quickly identifying: James Buchanan Barnes, former designation: Winter Soldier. Current designation: possible enemy._ _

__“Do not come closer,” the Mechanic intoned, and Barnes’s face expressed a mixture of recognition and sadness._ _

__“I’ll stay right here,” Barnes promised in that same soothing tone. “But you should still run your hand under some water.”_ _

__The Mechanic thought over his words. It was true that human physiology dictated that running his hand under cool water would help the healing process, though he was uncertain as to why Barnes would offer up such advice freely. Regardless, that had been his next move anyway, so he linked himself to one of FRIDAY’s cameras in the room so he could watch Barnes as he turned his back to the man and ran his hand under the water. The water was soothing, though no sigh of relief escaped him, and he allowed the sting of the burn to fade away before he turned back to Barnes._ _

__“Why are you here?” he asked._ _

__Barnes shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. This place is big enough that I figured I’d take a look around, familiarize myself with the layout.”_ _

__The Mechanic nodded; he could understand wanting to know the features of one’s environment._ _

__Barnes examined him sharply. “I’m speaking to the Mechanic right now, aren’t I?” he asked, though the question didn’t sound much like a question. The Mechanic nodded, and Barnes’s mouth twisted. “What brought you out, Mechanic?” he asked, and the Mechanic tilted his head._ _

__“I do not understand your question.”_ _

__“Tony has been in control for the past several months with no lapses, as far as I’ve been able to tell from the footage I’ve seen. What brought you out tonight?” Barnes asked, eyes too clever and piercing, and _oh_ , the Mechanic rather liked this one. He had _wisdom_._ _

__“There was unknown danger. Tony is not equipped to handle unknown danger as I am,” the Mechanic responded, but Barnes frowned._ _

__“I’d argue that he’s been in danger several times since he came back – the Rogues have been hostile to him, the media is pretty aggressive – why now?” Barnes pressed, and the Mechanic bared his teeth._ _

__“Because we did not _foresee_ this danger. We can see the danger from the press and from the Rogues, and Tony is equipped to handle those difficulties. But we did not see you tonight, and we did not know what threat you presented or where your loyalties lie. So I decided to step in,” the Mechanic responded. A look of understanding passed over Barnes’s face._ _

__“That sounds like pretty much the exact deal Winter and I have with each other,” he admitted, and the Mechanic nodded curtly._ _

__“A deal of protection amongst warriors is a time-honored tradition, it is no surprise you and your Winter have struck a similar bargain,” the Mechanic intoned, and Bucky raised an eyebrow amusedly._ _

__“Never heard it put quite like that, but I suppose that’s true,” he conceded. “So – you still think I’m a threat?”_ _

__The Mechanic regarded Barnes. “You are associated with a group that wishes Tony harm. Your actions here tonight belie that intention. Further data is required to assess your risk to Tony’s health and wellbeing.”_ _

__Barnes simply smiled. “That’s fair. I know words can only engender so much trust in lieu of actions but know that I don’t consider the Rogues’ actions towards Tony in any way acceptable, and I’m happy to distance myself from them in every capacity. Having spent the last several years with them, I can sincerely say I’ve never met a more misguided group of people. I hope I can earn your trust, and Tony’s trust eventually.”_ _

__The Mechanic regarded him, diagnostics running in the corner. “Your heart rate and blood pressure do not indicate any form of lying, so I hope we can take you at your word. But I’ll be watching you, James Barnes,” the Mechanic warned._ _

__“I would expect nothing less,” Barnes responded solemnly, and the Mechanic nodded, before allowing Tony to resume control._ _

__

__

__Tony swayed on his feet._ _

__“Wha – “ and then strong arms were encompassing him, surrounding him, tugging him to a couch._ _

__“Hey, don’t worry, you’re safe, you’re taken care of, no need to worry,” a soothing voice sounded in his ear, and Tony couldn’t help but lean into it, letting himself be pulled so that he rested against someone’s very sturdy chest._ _

__“What happened?” he asked, voice slurring a little, and he wasn’t sure why he body was betraying him so – was it sleep deprivation, or something else, pulling at his consciousness and making him feel weirdly vulnerable._ _

__“You burned yourself pouring some coffee and then suffered a little bit of a…fright,” the soothing voice continued, and Tony’s eyes fluttered._ _

__“Fright? I don’t do fright,” he objected petulantly, and a deep laugh rumbled in the chest he was laying on._ _

__“Of course not, doll. I misspoke. You were just caught off-guard, not frightened,” the voice reassured him, and Tony hummed his acquiescence to that phrasing._ _

__“Damn straight. I’m Iron Man, I don’t get scared, dammit,” he insisted, and he wasn’t sure if he should be offended at the rumble of laughter that declaration received in response or not. Whatever, though, he was sleepy – which reminded him. “Where coffee?” he asked hopefully, eyes fluttering open._ _

__A discontent noise followed his words. “Why don’t you hold off on the coffee for now, and I’ll make you some in the morning?”_ _

__Tony whined. “But why not nowwwww?” He felt a snicker of amusement from where he was pressed against that chest._ _

__“Because I think you might need sleep more than coffee right now, doll. But I’ll make you some great coffee in the morning if you’ll go to sleep for me now, deal?”_ _

__Tony grumbled to himself, but honestly he was so _so_ warm and comfortable where he was, and why did he really want to move anyway._ _

__“Deal,” he finally murmured sleepily, and then immediately passed out._ _

__

__

__He woke to the scent of deliciously acerbic caffeine, nose perking up at the scent. He shot up into a seated position from the couch – the couch??? – he was lying on, eyes immediately fixating on the coffeemaker._ _

__“Coffee?” he pleaded, eyes wide. And he was entirely unprepared for the assault on his vision when a gently smiling Bucky Barnes turned towards him, giving him a fond look as he poured life-giving brown liquid into an enormous mug._ _

__“Coffee,” Bucky confirmed, eyes dancing with amusement, and Tony was willing to bet he was going to have an internal freak-out later, but right now he just wanted to get his hands on that cup of miracle juice. Bucky handed it over easily, settling beside him on the couch with a familiarity Tony hadn’t realized they possessed; although considering he remembered very little of last night, he wouldn’t put it past himself to have developed some sort of connection that he’d somehow managed to erase from his memories._ _

__Tony took his first sip of coffee, groaning as the taste danced across his tongue._ _

__“Oh my _god_ , where did you learn how to make this, this is literal perfection,” Tony gushed, downing half the cup in between words. Bucky chortled. _ _

__“It’s probably the blackest, strongest cup of coffee known to man, so I figured you’d appreciate it,” the other man said, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice, and Tony rewarded him with a lazy grin._ _

__“Well, you were _very_ correct,” he assured the other man, and Bucky’s expression brightened. _ _

__“Glad to be of service.”_ _

__They sipped their coffees in silence for another couple of minutes before Tony’s curiosity overcame him._ _

__“So not that I’m opposed in the slightest – but what are you doing here, making me coffee?” he asked. Bucky’s face fell, and Tony temporarily felt bad for putting that expression on the other man’s face._ _

__“Your Mechanic showed up last night,” Bucky reported finally, and Tony froze._ _

__“What do you mean?” he asked through stiff lips. Oh god, had anyone died? Had he hurt people?_ _

__“It’s my fault, I startled him – you – and he came forth to protect you and make sure you were okay.”_ _

__Tony’s breathing rate had increased, but he focused on Bucky’s words, trying to let them compute. “So I didn’t hurt anyone?” Bucky emphatically shook his head._ _

__“Not at all. The Mechanic was entirely concerned with making sure you stay safe. He’s a lot like the Winter Soldier in that regard.”_ _

__And Tony, despite his burgeoning panic, felt some curiosity. “So the Mechanic and the Winter Soldier – they’re just trying to protect us?”_ _

__Bucky nodded seriously. “From what I can tell of the Winter Soldier, that’s his – our – primary directive. And the feeling I got from the Mechanic last night was much the same. He came out because he was afraid you were in danger and relinquished control once he realized you weren’t.”_ _

__Tony sat still for a moment, taking the information in. “That’s…that’s huge. I mean, I really thought my days as an active Avenger were over because I couldn’t trust myself in the field to not start murdering everyone as the Mechanic, but if he really does just want to protect me…”_ _

__Bucky nodded seriously. “And I think that really is what he wants. And if you want, we can always explore our…alternate personalities…together? Have them hash out whatever they need to hash out to reassure us we can be trusted in the field?”_ _

__Tony regarded Bucky carefully. “That may not be the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he finally conceded._ _

__And if it put him into closer proximity to a ridiculously attractive super soldier who apparently understood the exact bullshit he was going through every moment of every day? Well that was hardly his fault, was it?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't completely love how this chapter ended up, but this is how it came out, so I hope you guys enjoy and I promise to do better next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and Steve have a heated conversation, and Bucky and Tony have an altogether different kind of conversation. Aggressively. With their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so short - the chapter just kind of wrote itself that way as something borne of conversations and arguments. I have action planned for the next chapter, so it should be longer! Hope you guys enjoy regardless!

It was strange how easily Bucky Barnes worked his way into Tony’s life after that. They’d never quite gotten around to getting Winter and the Mechanic to meet, neither of them certain how to call out their alternate personalities at will (yeah, their lives were super fucking weird that that sentence even made sense to him), but surprisingly enough, Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark were actually able to get along. 

Bucky had started joining him in the lab, letting Tony babble on about whatever his latest project was without any sign of impatience. It had thrown Peter for a loop the first time the boy popped by to check on Tony. 

“Hey kid,” Tony called out when FRIDAY let Peter in.

“Hey, we’re practically the same age now, I don’t know if you can really call me kid anymore,” Peter pointed out, striding into the lab confidently, then drawing up short at the sight of Bucky kicked back on the couch, watching the inventor amusedly. Tony rolled out from underneath the car he was tinkering with to glare at Peter.

“Maybe physically, but emotionally, I am – “

“About 7 years old?” Bucky called lazily, and Peter choked on a laugh, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to jump on board with Bucky’s taunt or question what the hell the man was doing in the lab.

“Rude. That’s just rude, Snowflake,” Tony scolded, wagging the wrench in his hand at the bemused super soldier. 

“Maybe, but I noticed you’re not denyin’ the accuracy,” he responded easily, smirking, and Tony narrowed his eyes.

“’Cause I don’t have to,” Tony said haughtily. “I’m super mature, so mature that I know I don’t have to justify myself to you, right Petey?” Tony tured his eyes on the kid expectantly, who looked amusedly uncomfortable and shuffled his feet.

“Uh, well, I dunno about that, Mr. Stark,” he finally answered, a slight upturn at the corners of his lips, and Tony gasped in mock-offense.

“Betrayed by my own spawn. See if I update your suit now,” Tony declared, and Peter just raised his eyebrows.

“Pretty sure if I was your, uh, ‘spawn’, that would raise some serious ethical concerns at this point,” Peter sassed, and Tony frowned at him.

“Hey, I may look 22, but I’ve still been alive for a lot longer than that, kid,” Tony protested, and Peter looked unimpressed. Bucky was smirking at the exchange. Tony plunged on. “Besides, I’ve claimed you as my spawn, so that’s what you are regardless of what genetics says, no take-backsies.” And he was gratified by Peter’s surprised expression quickly turning into something of gratitude and happiness, though the kid masked it quickly. Tony kind of wanted to hug him – but Bucky just _had_ to chime in.

“See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Pretty sure mature adults don’t use ‘take-backsies’ as a phrase,” Bucky said drily, and Tony glared at him while Peter snickered.

“’Take-backsies’ is a very official phrase, you can look it up,” Tony responded sniffily, choosing to stick his tongue out at Bucky and knowing it helped his case precisely 0%. But he quickly became distracted when a message pinged at the corner of his vision, informing him of a _situation_ that required his immediate attention and specific expertise. Sifting through the data file quickly, Tony tensed. This was unfortunately serious. “Shit. Pete, you up for some science?” he asked, his tone a mixture of grave and distracted, and it was a mark of how well Peter could read him that he instantly read the shift in Tony’s demeanor.

“Sure, Mr. Stark. What’s going on?”

 

 

Tony sank into the cold, unforgiving chair at the kitchen table and sipped his eighth cup of coffee with all the fervor of a man offered the elixir of life in his dying hour. It was probably a testament to how long the day had been and how much he needed the goddamn coffee that he didn’t notice when someone slipped into the kitchen with all the stealth of a fucking bull on a rampage, too focused on maintaining consciousness for _just a moment longer_ to let his senses pick up aberrant activity. After all, it was three in the morning – who would be in the kitchen at that hour?

“Tony. I’ve been trying to catch you by yourself so we could talk,” Steve said with some degree of relief, dropping into a chair across from him, and it’s probably a testament to how tired he is and how much he doesn’t consider Steve a threat anymore that the Mechanic doesn’t immediately come out.

“Rogers,” Tony acknowledged easily, and he sees Steve tense at the lack of familiarity in his address. He hid a smile. “What can I help you with?” he asked neutrally and was entirely unaffected when Steve gazed at him earnestly.

“I want to fix things between us, Tony,” Steve said, and it said something for his foresight when he immediately waved off Tony’s open-mouthed immediate protest that everything was okay between them. “I know that you helped us get home and you aren’t doing anything… _hostile_ towards us…but it’s not the same as it was before, and I want to fix that.”

Tony had to admit it – he was a little speechless in the wave of Steve’s sincere declaration, the man staring into his eyes with determination. Was he really that delusional? Did he seriously think that, after everything, Tony could just forget what happened with a quick chat?

“Rogers, I’m not sure what you think you can accomplish with this talk, but you _have_ to know this situation is anything but a quick fix…?” Tony stated, inflection turning up at the end to make it into a question against his will – because he honestly wasn’t sure how delusional Steve was. And Steve drew back at the statement, appearing strangely off-guard.

“What do you mean, Tony? I want to make up, I want the team to function the way it used to, and you said you want cohesion – how is that not a quick fix?” Steve asked, his expression nothing but guileless confusion, and Tony was simultaneously alarmed and sickened.

“We will _never_ go back to the way it used to be,” Tony swore vehemently, and Steve appeared alarmed at his fervor, seeming as though he was going to interrupt, but Tony didn’t allow him the opportunity, voice pitched low and furious, eyes meeting Steve’s evenly and controlled but distinctly uncompromising. “You took advantage of me. You had me paying for your upgrades, designing your weapons even though I swore I was out of that business, paying for the damage we _all_ caused, handling all the PR, housing you, feeding you, doing _everything_ for you without _any_ thanks or acknowledgment. You behaved like I owed you all of my time, attention, wealth, power, _everything_ , and gave me absolutely nothing in return. And beyond not even giving me any thanks, you treated me like I was _dirt_ , something to be scrubbed off the bottom of your shoe, the whole team did, despite everything I’ve done for them. And then you left me for dead in Siberia. So _no_ , we will _never_ go back to that.”

Steve looked taken aback by his declaration, looked uncertain as to how to proceed, and Tony knew Captain Fucking America had no procedures in line for when someone had a justifiable reason to hate him. It felt good, in a vindictive way, to see his confusion, worry, uncertainty with how to proceed.

“Tony, you know that wasn’t how it was with us, you’re just twisting things,” Steve tried to interject, and Tony shook his head venomously.

“No, this is me being _generous_ with what you’ve done to me over the years. Because if I really wanted to? Rogers, if I really wanted to, I could list the last four years as being attributable to you. Every kill I made under Hydra’s orders, every weapon I built – your fucking fault for leaving me in a Hydra bunker to die,” Tony said slowly but deliberately, relishing in the look of anguish that crossed Rogers’s face. “You can’t even claim innocence from lack of knowledge – you knew it was a Hydra base, and you knew based off Barnes exactly what Hydra did to turn people into their unwilling slaves. And you still left me there, seriously injured and incapable of calling for help.”

Steve looked entirely wrecked, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was himself or the Mechanic that made him go in for the kill.

“How does it feel, _Captain_? How does it feel to know that hundreds of thousands of people died because of _you_?” he asked, his voice whip-sharp and cruel – and yeah, it must’ve been a lot of the Mechanic bleeding into his consciousness, because Tony knew he would never consciously let anyone else take the blame for the harm he’d caused at Hydra’s helm. He’d done so much that he couldn’t forget but tried so hard not to remember, and yeah, he may not have had a choice, but it had still been _him_. If he’d never existed, those people would never have died, and he couldn’t forgive himself for that. But the Mechanic apparently had no such qualms about laying the blame at Rogers’s feet to drive the point home. 

And the point was apparently _very_ received. Rogers looked shaken to his core.

“Tony, you have to know I never intended that,” Rogers beseeched him, and the Mechanic laughed coldly.

“Does it matter?” he asked callously, and Rogers flinched at the words, so the Mechanic drove the point home mercilessly. “Does it matter if you intended it or not when people are dead because of what you did?” And the Mechanic was surprised to find himself not only talking about Siberia, but also Lagos, Bucharest, the RAFT – and the many fucking other places Captain America had invaded without regard for loss of life over the years, as long as his mission was accomplished and his precious Bucky still breathed. Those memories may not belong to him, but he accessed them with ease, noting how readily they supported his cause. Rogers looked devastated, and the Mechanic smiled. “Hydra was proud of you,” he said, his voice soft, quiet, _tender_. “You did so much more than they ever could to destroy the reputation of the Avengers, of what it means to be a hero. You’re an _inspiration_ to them; your murders are legendary.”

“I haven’t murdered anyone,” Steve whispered, stricken, and the Mechanic smirked cruelly.

“You’ve murdered so many that Hydra can’t even keep a kill count for you anymore,” he said easily, and at Rogers’s disbelieving look, he shrugged and continued. “You’ve killed many innocents directly in your search for Barnes, of course, but also in the side effects of your battles, and in the people you’ve fucked over. Your name is whispered with reverence in Hydra’s halls. I know how much you love it when people revere you, so I hope that brings you pleasure,” the Mechanic grinned, knowing his words would haunt Rogers’s dreams. Good. None of what the Mechanic had said was untrue, so he hoped Rogers felt guilt; he hoped Rogers felt even a _tenth_ of the crushing horror of what Hydra had made him do, though he felt fairly certain the other man’s arrogance and certainty of his own moral superiority prevented that. 

“That’s…that’s not what I wanted,” Rogers protested, and the Mechanic simply looked at him. “I just wanted to save Bucky.”

“Well congratulations, Captain, you did that.” Rogers appeared gratified but wary, and the Mechanic felt a vindictive pleasure at proving that wariness just when he continued, “But it cost you my friendship and loyalty. So this conversation? Very pointless.”

Rogers appeared undone.

“Tony, please,” he pleaded, tears in his eyes and desperation on his breath, and the Mechanic laughed, no humor entering the noise.

“You made your choice, Captain Rogers. You have to live with it,” he said finally.

 

 

“Stevie told me you had a conversation?” Bucky asked, entering Tony’s lab, and he winced, pulling himself out of the specs on a shield from all magic he’d been working on.

“Yeah, I have a vague recollection of it,” Tony admitted, forcing himself to meet Bucky’s eye from where he was seated. Bucky dropped into the seat next to him, expression neutral.

“How vague?” he asked, and Tony knew he was asking how much the Mechanic had handled that conversation. Tony shrugged, trying to appear disaffected.

“Not enough that I can’t access the memories,” Tony said, then, at Bucky’s uncertain expression, clarified. “The Mechanic took over partially but not fully. He didn’t say anything I didn’t already feel,” he admitted, some degree of shame coloring his words. He shouldn’t have blamed Steve for any of the deaths at his own hand; that was his own fault.

Bucky’s expression was complex, passing a series of emotions – concern, dismay, worry, fear – before schooling itself into polite indifference. “And how are you feeling now?” he asked.

Tony paused, gathering and assessing his reactions. “A little better,” he confessed, unable to look Bucky in the eye. “Letting out some of my grievances helped, I guess. But I’m still willing to work with them,” he reaffirmed, looking Bucky squarely in the eye, and Bucky nodded.

“Figured as much. I just wanted to check on you and see how _you’re_ doing,” Bucky emphasized, and Tony stared at him, befuddled. Bucky met his gaze, constant and unconcerned, until Tony was the one who broke.

“What do you mean?” he asked finally, and he was surprised to see remorse cross Bucky’s expression.

“Exactly what I said, Tony. I want to make sure you’re okay,” he said softly, moving his chair a little more into Tony’s space, eyes earnest in a way that put Rogers’s earnestness to shame. “Is that okay?”

Tony felt like his tongue was stuck in his throat, eyes wide and face inches from Bucky’s, who was all-too-innocent for him to corrupt. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, I promise. Everything’s okay,” he choked out, and Bucky looked relived, but didn’t move out of his space. 

“You’re not just sayin’ that to get me out of here, right?” Bucky questioned, a teasing smirk crossing his lips.

“And what if I was?” Tony snarked back, words leaving him before he could think them through. But Bucky’s expression drew serious immediately.

“Then I’ll leave,” he said firmly, meeting Tony’s gaze steadily, and Tony found himself mesmerized by those eyes. “No one will be in your home if you don’t want them here, Tony.”

And strangely enough, Tony believed him.

“Don’t,” he found himself saying, without his own volition, and Bucky looked as surprised as him.

“Don’t what?” he asked cautiously, and Tony felt his affection for the other man building without his specific volition for feeling the need to clarify. He met Bucky’s gaze evenly.

“Don’t leave,” Tony said, his voice steady, despite how his heart was racing at the words. What if Bucky rejected him? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he was just using him to get info for Steve?

But at his words, Bucky’s expression lightened, appearing as though he’d been given the world. He moved towards Tony with an intent Tony couldn’t name.

“I won’t,” he vowed, eyes dark and flashing, before closing in.

And then his lips pressed against Tony’s, and Tony couldn’t help the whimper that escaped, a feeling of complete bliss and consuming hunger echoing through him, encouraging him to press back into the kiss, to give as good as he got, and he smiled against Bucky’s lips as the man let out a noise of surprise.

This was going to be fun.


End file.
